Through Hell And Back
by JackieBlue
Summary: He, a right-wing knight of Ultraviolence. She, a broken spirit with nowhere to go. Both have a lot more in common than they're willing to admit and will touch eachother's lives in a way the other never thought possible. Violence, Language, Sexual Content.
1. Rorschach’s Journal, September 8, 1985

*Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen in any way, shape or form. Only the plot and OC.

Author's Note:

This little story has been a chip on my shoulder for a while now so I decided to type it up. I'm not a hundred percent sure on where it's headed at this point so we'll just see where it takes us. Plot suggestions would be greatly appreciated and although I can't promise to get everything in there, I'll try my best and I'll consider everything! Remember, comments are GREATLY appreciated and definitely keep me going. Plus the way I work is, you comment me and I'll comment you right back! So without further achoo, here is my little Rorschach/OC story. Hopefully it doesn't suck balls, but you'll be the judge of that. Thank you for reading my little author's spiel!

P.S. I know a lot of people aren't too crazy about Rorschach hetero love stories, but I honestly don't give a shit. This was a hell of a lot of fun to write! Read at your own discretion ;)

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Rorschach's Journal, September 8, 1985

_Rorschach's Journal, September 8, 1985: "Roaming the rooftops, attempt to distance myself of the accumulated scent of sex, drugs, and deception that has festered and now lingers through the endless streets, but to no avail. A futile attempt at best, now realise. Descend among salt of the earth, the scattered human effluence that laces the grimy streets. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Whores hocking their diseased bodies, offering cheap, dirty pleasure decorate the streets like broken ornaments on a dead Christmas tree. Almost physically sickening. Simply ignore them, along with their subsequent appalled profanities in my direction. This city is a poison unto itself, a fatal disease, a plague... Night has now fallen completely over streets, a dark sheath to hide its degradation. However, so-called 'sheath' tends to emulate the dilapidated remnants of nobility. Sadly ironic..." _

Rorschach trudged on through the dark streets, ears keen to the slightest sound of peril. So far, it was an oddly quiet evening. He'd be lying if he wasn't slightly disappointed. "Hurmm..." he muttered in his usual thick, ragged tone as he attempted to listen more intently, shoving his gloved hands further into his pockets. And there it was. Right on cue.

About a block and a half away, a trash can had been kicked. _Hmmm...Perhaps some retched low-life taking out his petty problems on an inanimate object. Could also be assault...or kidnap._ And with that, he quickened his pace. The thought of kidnap made Rorschach's bowels churn in revulsion. It reminded him of all those years ago, back when he took on that first case. Blair Roche was her name...so young. He felt a dull pang of sorrow deep within his chest. It had been years since he last thought of that night...the night Walter died, after which there was only Rorschach. He became fully aware of how inhumane mankind could be...he finally understood that day, and dealt with it. God was not to blame for society's issues, but rather society itself. Blaming a higher power was far easier than taking responsibility for one's own wrong doings and it was up to Rorschach to bestow unto the unjust the punishment they deserved. Then another thought came to his mind.

He had nearly forgotten about another kidnapping; one he'd managed to foil. It was several years ago. He had come across a group of thugs in an alleyway, attempting to make off with a little girl. She was a sickly looking thing, battered and bruised, most likely caused by domestic abuse. She reminded him so much of a young Walter, one whose mind was still naive to the ghastly reality outside his own hellish childhood. After taking care of the thugs with ease (learning close to nothing about their motives in the process, at least nothing he could work with), he turned to leave, assuming the young one had already fled. He was slightly startled to hear a hard thud, and spun around to see her still form on the ground, clearly a failed attempt to get up. If he'd left her there, she would most likely be found once more and be 'taken care of'. Normally, victims in these situations especially at this hour were adults, and could take care of themselves after his interventions. But she was a child; an unconscious one at that. Something had to be done, this he knew. It would be a great burden going against his instincts, which were simply to leave as quickly and quietly as possible, and an even greater burden to see to it that she was in a safe place.

With a weary "Hurmmm..." he made his way over to her to make sure she was at least conscious. Perhaps if she had the strength to stand, she would simply run away from him out of fear. But as he knelt down, she made no movements, save for laboured, shallow breathing and heavy flickering eyelids, most likely due to some previous over-exertion. He hesitantly reached out to grab her shoulder and shake it lightly to nudge her awake. It was making him extremely uncomfortable, and he felt it was border lining inappropriate. If she hadn't woken up a moment sooner, he would have turned to leave. She slowly opened her eyes, looked at his face for a moment and gave a slight gasp. _Perhaps her fear will trigger some adrenaline rush and_ _she'll run, _he thought hopefully. "Safe now...they're gone", he spoke in an attempt to coax her out of her daze. Her face went from shocked to grateful as she whispered: "Thank you..." and fell comatose once more. It was a pretty big shock that she hadn't been frightened of him. In fact, her look was almost...idolizing.

He quietly shook off any minute feeling of pride and hauled her over his shoulder. He didn't like this. Not one bit. But the sooner she was safe, the sooner he could try and forget about this whole ordeal. For a girl of her age, though (ten or eleven was his guess) she was very light. Abused and malnourished. She'd probably been trying to run away from home. Even if he had known where she lived, he couldn't take her there. He needed help with this one, and he turned to the only person he thought could help him at this point.

Of course, Dan Dreiberg was a little more than shocked to see Rorschach with a child slung over his shoulder standing at his doorstop. "Well...just gonna stand there _gawking_...or are you gonna help me?" he demanded curtly more than asked. After reviewing the situation, they thought it was best to leave her at an orphanage, somewhere outside the city to deter any search attempts. The process took less than an hour thanks to Archie, and in less than two hours, Rorschach was back on the streets, pretending that night had never happened.

Actually, he had done a pretty good job of doing so. Several years, and this was the first time his thoughts were pulled back to that night. He really needed a distraction. Then, he remembered exactly where he was going and remembered why he was going there. And with that, his mind was clear, and he broke from his walking pace into a sprint, gathering enough momentum to leap to a fire escape above. He climbed to the roof, walked to the other side, peered down to the alley below, and sure enough, he was right. _Kidnap._

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'_September eighth, 1985, my first day in the city in nearly eight years. And although I am completely alone in this metropolis, it seems...friendlier somehow. Well, considering the last time I had scurried down this very same street, bathed in the flickering glow of these same streetlights, any loathsome hellhole seems like a "friendlier place". In retrospect, keeping a diary, I mean, 'personal journal', isn't such a bad idea...it certainly gives me something to do sitting in this old, forgotten apartment. Exactly how long forgotten? I'm not sure. Certainly long enough that I need a piece of paper with the address scribbled down to find my way back. The day I stepped foot out of here was also the last time I had seen any of the people in it as well, save for two or three visits from Ben my older brother, which could have led to more frequent visits, along with an invite to move in with him once he moved out of here, but any hope of that happening was completely extinguished when I found out that he'd been shot seven years ago. I was twelve...yet another routine, drive-by shooting, and yet another innocent caught in the crossfire. No funeral was held, but I'd always pray for him, despite the fact that religion no longer held significance in my life. I mean, what 'God' would let all this happen, all this carnage and debauchery to consume this city? I lost faith years ago, but I've always held my brother near and dear to me, even in death. He was the only one who I loved and whom also loved me in return. He's the only one whose face I can remember vividly. He was my protector, my best friend, my hero, and in many ways more than the real ones were, my mother and father. Seeing me back in this city, on this block, in the apartment of this very building, well...he'd probably be furious, but I'm sure if he knew the circumstances, Ben would forgive me...'._

Renée Arnaud closed the little diary with a disheartened sigh. "Enough for tonight, I suppose" she silently breathed with a faint smile of reminiscence, slowly getting up from the corner she was sitting in to walk over to the full body mirror, each shoeless step giving way to a mild groan from the creaking floorboards. She stood in front of it, her eyes wandering from the small cracks in the corner, to a dark green stain, and finally resting on her own reflection. She stood at a short 5' 4, to which she gave an annoyed huff. She always kept a slim figure, not that it was up to her or anything. Spending one's childhood in an orphanage didn't necessarily call for gourmet meals. Or three squares a day for that matter. Had it not been for genetics, she would have been a short, pale stick figure. She had adopted her french mother's light beige skin tone and fair curves. She had always been ostracized by the other girls at the orphanage for her 'perfect body'. It stopped bothering her after a while, but they'd never know that she would trade what little she did have for someone who would love her for her inner beauty. Scanning over her face, she looked over her symmetrical features. The bright green of her eyes in contrast to her chestnut brown hair was breathtaking. Despite her gifts of aesthetic beauty, she didn't care for any of it. She didn't wear make-up or wear fitting clothes. The last thing she wanted to do was to give the other girls a real reason to bully her. Besides, it wasn't like there was anyone around to teach her that beauty was something to be nurtured, not to be ashamed of. As a result, she would shy away from anyone who would compliment her looks, politely thanking them, but inwardly burning with trepidation.

She gave another dejected sigh before running her fingers through her dark hair, removing any stray knots. She straightened her shorts, pulled down the hemline of her loosely fitted long-sleeved shirt, gave her hair one last smooth-over, and headed for the door. Or she was about to, when she looked out the window and noticed that night had fallen over the city. She gave an exasperated sigh. She really needed to go out for some fresh air, but she knew as well as anyone else who lived here that walking through the streets at this hour was a death sentence...under any other circumstances, she wouldn't even glance in the direction of the door at this hour, but it was different. This place had been hell on earth for her from her ninth birthday until the day she decided she could no longer stand it. There were long gaps in which she couldn't remember anything from her childhood; something her psychiatrist would tell her was called a 'repressed memory'. She certainly had quite a few of those. One thing she could never forget however was the very last day she had spent there. The day she decided to run away from it all.

She remembered grasping the door knob, throwing the door open, and simply running. She ran out of the building, turned on the sidewalk and ran down the street as fast as she could. She remembered the burning in her lungs, the aching of her sides, the feeling of wanting to throw up, tears impeding her vision, her calves going numb out of sheer exertion...but it didn't mean a thing, as long as she was out of there. She also remembered being chased by an older man, most likely her father, but he soon grew tired, and it was simply her and the soft caress of the streetlights against her running form. She had run until she had no idea where she was, and then...She passed out. Even in the evening, with dozens among dozens of people scurrying to bus stops and train stations in a rush to get home, nobody stopped to look down and notice an eleven year-old girl on the ground, motionless on the city street huddled against a brick wall. Well, it was either that, or they just didn't care.

Later that evening when the streets were clear of any people, a gang of thugs happened upon her still body. By now she was conscious, but simply in pain from all the exertion. She could do nothing to stop them as they hauled her away. She couldn't kick, she couldn't scream. One man looked at her as they were taking her into an alley and simply said with an almost pitied look on his face, "Sorry about this...Just tyin' up loose ends." Another gang member quickly shut him up, but she couldn't hear what they were saying anymore. She was terrified. Why did she have to run? Why today? She didn't have to run so far, and now because she did, she was going to be killed for it! It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair...

Tears streamed down her face as she inwardly scolded herself, but she was abruptly pulled out of her misery when one thug took a sharp blow to the back. He let out a deafening cry of pain and fell to the ground, letting go of her left leg. It was the one who had pitied her. The other gang members dropped her in unison as they put up their guard to face the invisible threat. She fell with a hard thud, and groaned in pain. Acting on instinct, she rolled herself until she was against the wall and hid behind a garbage can. Whatever this new threat was, she wasn't going to wait and see if it was on her side.

And then she saw him. Ever since his re-emergence after the Keene Act, her and Ben had kept every newspaper article about him, any mention of his name, his pictures, were all added to her scrapbook. She had two heroes. One was her brother, obviously...and the other was him, her saviour. Rorschach. She had only dreamed of ever seeing him in person, and now he was saving her life. Renée was over-whelmed with happiness and gratitude as she watched her masked defender descend gracefully from the fire escape to face her captors. She wasn't worried about him, oh no. She knew he could defend himself and then some. She was simply ecstatic to see Rorschach in action! She watched intently as he anticipated every move, matching it with a hard blow, followed by cries of pain from the gang members, until there was all but one left. It was the one who had spoken to her, now standing on wobbling, terrified legs as Rorschach approached. She watched giddily as she waited for that final inevitable punch to the gut.

But her face slowly swung from ecstasy, to slight confusion as he took the thug's hand, the ink of his mask warping like a lava lamp. And then, he spoke: "Who put you up to this..." His voice was gruff and hoarse, what she expected, but it was his tone that was unsettling. It was calm...too calm. Her gaze shifted to the thug, who was simply terrified, almost as if he knew what Rorschach would do to him if he didn't talk. "I-I-I dunno ho-honestl-ly...p-please don't, I'm j-just a runt, they don't tell m-me noth-nothin'..." She could not for the life of her understand what had this man so shaken up. Indeed, he was cornered by the vigilante, but the man looked as though he had a gun pointed at his head. Rorschach pulled her out of her reverie for the second time that night, and then she knew...she simply watched with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth to muffle her horrified gasps, as he took the man's finger and broke it with a loud, wet popping sound. "Who put you up to this...", his demeanour just as calm as before. She wanted to run and hide (that seemed to be the only thing she could ever do) but she was afraid of attracting unwanted attention to herself. She watched until Rorschach had broken each and every one of his fingers. It turned out that the man's brother met a similar fate in _his_ meeting with the vigilante. It was also apparent that the man truly didn't know who the king pin of this whole situation was, only that she was to be used as some kind of recompense for her father's doings, or something like that.

But she would worry about that later. Right now, she felt as though she was in a locked cage with a lion...and the cage was getting smaller. She watched in horror as the man convulsed violently for a brief moment, then pain took him over completely and he fell comatose. The jumble of emotions scrambling through her were suddenly wired down to desperation and fear...but no longer fear _of_ Rorschach. The fact that he was walking away made her feel helpless again, unaware of what to do or where to go from this point on. Bet he'd know. With that thought in mind, she got up quickly and wanted to run over to catch up with him, but then felt the shock of pain through her legs. She let out a loud moan of pain, and tried to inch in his direction, but it was no use. The shock that ran through her legs elicited a sharp gasp, and she fell to the ground with a loud thud. The last thing she remembered was his approaching footsteps. He turned her over, said something incoherent, and she blacked out...but not before she got a good look at his face. The image of those shifting blots against his mask, his hat and trench coat, along with the feel of his hand on her shoulder and his knee brushing against her hip. She remembered it so vividly, as if it had happened yesterday. And every time she did, it brought a faint smile to her face.

After that, she remembered winding up in an orphanage in Queens, and that's where she spent the remainder of her life, that is until recently. The building was demolished to make way for a freeway of some sort and she had nowhere else to go. She didn't have much money, and no legal documents or any family that she was aware of, so her last resort was to move back to Manhattan, track down her childhood home, and hope it was deserted. She soon found that that would be a lot harder than she had previously anticipated. She found herself standing in the middle of a side-walk, asking strangers if they could help her find her way around. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was the apathy and downright rude nature of most of the city dwellers. Luckily for her, a homeless man she had approached gladly pointed her in the right direction. With a grateful thank you, and a quick upward glance at the big sign that rested on his shoulder, she made her way towards the place she once called home. For once, luck was on her side and she casually moved into the abandoned building with nothing but a backpack and six hundred dollars in cash. She knew that wouldn't get her very far, so she had to get a job. For now though, she would try to get her thoughts straightened out and figure out what she was to do with her life.

She blinked a few times, pulling out of her reminiscence, and realized she had already started making her way down the street. The very same street, actually, that she'd travelled down many years ago. Things had hardly changed, save for a painted door every now and again...and those same four words in succession that plastered nearly every building. She scoffed as she read 'Who watches the Watchmen?' for the hundredth time and decided she was sick of it. But she couldn't help but drift back into memory, back when she had come face to face with her hero. She stopped walking and stood in front of yet another set of graffiti. "I wonder if _he's_ still around..." she thought aloud, her first sincere smile in the longest while.

"For your sake, I hope _he_ is..."

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A/N: Well there you have it. The first chapter! The second is already typed up and ready to go, but still needs some revision. That should be up within the next day. But first, I want to know what you all think about this first chapter. Thanks for reading! 3 :)


	2. DéjàVu

*Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen in any way, shape, or form. Only the plot and OC.

Author's Note:

I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank the first reviewer of this story. I really appreciated the feedback and totally understand where you're coming from. I guess it hadn't occured to me at the time that Roche wasn't his first case, but was the only one the book had touched on from his past. That was my bad! Also, if I hadn't made her attractive, it wouldn't really fit in with what I had planned for the rest of the story, which I can assure you, was never meant to end happily. Also, I realize that this story isn't for everyone and I fully understand the intricacies of Rorschach's character which I will definitely be exploring certain aspects of throughout the later chapters. Anyway, totally up to you whether you want to continue reading this or not, but again thanks for the constructive criticism. I've definitely taken it to heart. And to everyone else, thanks for reading up until now! Let me know what YOU think by reviewing. ;)

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Renée felt herself back away, further and further into the alley. Bad idea. "You really shouldn't be out here all by your lonesome, lil' missy", the hulking man gruffly stated, inching towards her. "I'm...uhh...n-new in town..." she uttered in a shaky, timid voice, trying not to notice the way his eyes wandered unabashedly. She would gravely regret saying that. The looming man's eyes widened briefly, and then his face shifted into a large, toothy smirk, one that sent chills up her spine. "You hear that, boys...our little friend is, huhuh..._new _in town", he seemingly announced to no one in particular. Then they emerged. Five of them. Three other large men followed by a couple of lanky ones. They all shot her the same menacing grin. "How's about we acquaint our new little friend with the way things work around here, eh boys?". That rush...her quickening pulse, the cold sweat, the shaky limbs, her churning bowels. She had always hoped that she would never get that 'fear for her life' feeling again, but now it was becoming all too clear. Her death tonight was inevitable...and if not death, then...The gang of hoods approached as thoughts of rape and torture ping ponged through her mind. It was so difficult to keep track of her thoughts, much less notice that she was about to back into another thug wielding a broken chair leg above her head. A sharp blow to her skull, and then darkness. It was all over. She would drift in and out of consciousness, at one point realizing she was being hauled in the air by several men, and made an attempt to free herself by kicking wildly. Her foot made contact with a trashcan, but she doubted the noise was loud enough to be heard by anyone. Fear engulfed her mind, and she fell comatose once again. Another spurt of consciousness brought her back for a moment, tears streaming across her face due to her recumbent pose, and fell into her dark hair, vanishing among the chestnut tresses. She began to hyperventilate, but the large men surrounding her paid no mind. They were as fully aware as she was that nobody could save her now. She sought desperately for some sort of comfort in her mind. Her brother immediately entered her thoughts, soothing her briefly, but realizing that he was no longer with her only worsened her anxiety. She thought hard, the cogs of her mind spinning arduously to find some moment of happiness in her life...then she remembered. That night, nearly eight years ago. She had been in a similar situation, except that time she had been lucky. She remembered her last moment of consciousness during that day. The rippling blots of ink that adorned his features brought her out of hysteria, and she fell back out of consciousness with a drowsy smile. She suddenly felt weightless. Was she dead? The hard rush of pavement under her body quickly dashed this thought as she rolled into a fetal position to avert the pain searing her back. And in that position, she was out cold again.

Just as he'd expected. He wasted no time. As Rorschach leaped over the fire escape, he noticed a huddling mass against the side of the alley. Realizing that it was the would-be victim, he was glad half his job was already done. Now, he could do it his way. As he landed he was greeted with the usual. "Well, well, if it ain't the schizoid...my brothah told me you was dead!", spewed one of the lankier thugs. A larger one smirked while cracking his apish knuckles. "Don't worry...he will be in a minute", to which another thug added: "Yo, freakshow! Yer outnumbah'd six ta one! Ya can't do jack SHIT!". Rorschach's only response was a slight head tilt. A larger member in the back immediately piped up. "What'sa matter, shit fer brains? You don't get plain English?". "Hurmm...correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't there seven of you?", he asked calmly. As their smirks seemed to fade in unison, Rorschach chuckled briefly and swiftly turned to meet the hidden thug holding a broken chair leg above his head. "Thought so", he muttered, and with that, took hold of his wrist with blinding speed, causing the man to drop his makeshift weapon. The others simply watched, dumbfounded, as Rorschach straightened out the man's arm with a tug and punched at his elbow, causing broken bone to tear through his skin. The agonizing scream pulled the other thugs out of their trance and charged for the anti-hero. Still holding the thug by the arm, he spun around to face the oncoming gang, throwing their comrade at them, sending a few of them flying back into a brick wall. The others stopped in their tracks, feet away from the masked vigilante. "You were right in saying it was an unfair fight. Thought I'd even the odds" he spoke derisively. With that, the three remaining thugs began charging for him once more. Wasting no time, he threw a swift spin kick, knocking two into each other and flying headfirst into the wall, audibly cracking their skulls. The last one stopped in his tracks once more, watching a pool of blood forming around his fellow members. All he could make was the croaking sound that escaped his throat as it was met by Rorschach's merciless grip. He was rammed against the wall, only to be faced by radically shifting patterns of the victor's mask. Despite the pleading look in his eyes, Rorschach grabbed the man's face, and with a series of loud cracks to the neck, dropped his lifeless body into a pile of garbage. As he turned to leave without sparing a second glance at the unconscious low-lives in the corner, he shoved his fists back into his pockets, and made his way down the alley back onto the main streets. He'd almost reached the end too, when he realised that there was no sign of the would-be victim after he'd spotted her huddled up against the wall when he first entered. He finally slowed his pace to a complete stop. He hadn't bothered to 'do away' with a few of those thugs, and they would certainly take their rage out on the innocent victim when they came to. Rorschach was rather certain that the young woman had gotten away safely. But before he knew it, he had turned tail and was making his way back into the alley to make sure that the girl was clear of any danger. Just a quick look around, and then he could return to his skulking. He scowled dismally at the sight of her unconscious form next to a few trash cans near the wall. As long as she was awake, he was certain she could muster up the strength to get the hell out of there on her own. With a weary sigh, he knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder to nudge her. He didn't like this one bit, but it was better than having the death of an innocent on his already-fucked up conscience. He pulled on her shoulder until she rolled onto her back. She was out cold. Brilliant.

Rorschach thought for a moment. This situation began feeling vaguely familiar, and he wasn't enjoying any of it. In fact, he could have sworn he'd seen this girl before. Then again, she could just be one of the many whores that lined the streets at night, only her clothes weren't fitted. She showed no cleavage or torso. From the simple white long sleeve she wore, to the plain black shorts, down to the worn-out sneakers on her feet. She was no whore. She was a young woman, who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. He noticed a small piece of folded paper she had been clutching the entire time. As he took it out of her grasp, he read an address scribbled on it. Fortunately, he knew exactly where it was. Unfortunately, Rorschach came to the realization that he would have to take her there. He briefly considered slinging her over his shoulder, but that involved a very bad touch. Ultimately, he picked her up bridal style and began making his way further down the alley. He figured sticking to low traffic areas was the best call for a situation like this. As he made his way down the alley, he noticed that she was rather light for a young woman. She appeared malnourished. She also appeared to be new in town. Otherwise, he figured, she would never even consider being at this part of the city at this hour. Going over the events that preceded, they seemed eerily familiar...but that other case had happened several years ago. Then again, the victim currently lying motionless in his arms did bear a striking resemblance to that child he rescued long ago. The odds were improbable, but not impossible. Just then, he felt her weight shifting around under his hold as she began stirring from her state of unconsciousness. Stopping in his tracks, he quickly but carefully set her upright on the ground. He figured he didn't need to carry her unless she was completely helpless. Kneeling in front of her, he waited patiently for her to come to. After a moment of shifting and groaning, her eyes fluttered open.

Renée could hardly believe her eyes. Years after facing the same predicament she would never have guessed that the outcome would have also followed suit. The word 'fate' entered her mind, until she realised that he was getting up to leave. Feeling helpless and in need of some explanation, her hand shot out and grabbed the end of his long trench coat. "Rorschach, wait!" she pleaded. Hearing her own voice, she sounded pretty pathetic. But under the circumstances, she would have done anything to garner his attention beyond his moral duties as a hero. With a weary sigh, he stopped in his tracks and turned his head to the side, his eyes cast down to look at her. It was then that he realised that he hadn't really gotten a good look at her until just this moment. By _society_'s standards, she was beautiful. She had soft, kind features. He continued to watch her with a wary, analytical glare; her stunning green eyes were laced with an intense sorrow that lay deep within. This was accented by her dark and somewhat voluminous hair. He also noticed the way she softly bit her lower lip, possibly a nervous habit she had developed over the years...he stopped himself before he could let his eyes travel any further down. With the material of his coat still in her clutches like a dog leash, she looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to address her in some way. In any way. She didn't know why she was acting so lamely. Perhaps if he thought that she was still in some need of aid, he would stay and help her. "I...I don't know where I live" she stated simply. She fought hard to keep back the whine in her voice, to which she succeeded. His back still to her, he turned his head forward, presumably in deep thought. This gave her the chance to slowly release her iron grip from the coat. She also came to realise that what she had just said sounded completely and utterly ridiculous.

But before she could inwardly curse herself any further, she looked up to see Rorschach, his body now facing her, offering a gloved hand. She hastily grabbed it and found herself being hoisted up onto her feet. The quick motion made her head spin momentarily, but not quick enough for her to dismiss how quickly his hand pulled away from hers the second she was up. As she brushed her bare thigh of the grime and dirt that stuck to it, Rorschach walked ahead a few steps, stopping abruptly to look back at her expectantly. Looking up, she felt stupid for keeping him waiting, and scurried to him until she fell in step. Their trek had been silent until Renée realised something.

"Say, uh...Do you know where I live?"

She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow but lowered it when Rorschach wordlessly raised his gloved hand offering her a piece of crumpled paper. Warily, she took it from him and opened it. Seeing her address written down in her own hand writing, she had gotten her answer. Tossing it aside she let out a quiet humourless chuckle.

"I guess you know you're way around this city pretty well, huh?" Looking up at him expectantly, he was seemingly ignoring her.

"My name's Renée" she tried one last time. Still nothing.

He wasn't exactly the loquacious type, but she figured she wouldn't have it any other way. It added to his mystery and she liked that. So far, he was exactly as she had pictured him. Meanwhile, her escort was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He found it a little creepy, the way she kept staring at him. She seemed to be in some sort of weird, trance-like state and he didn't like it. Not one bit. "Won't be long now" he stated simply, not bothering to turn his head. Her head snapped to the left as his harsh voice broke the silence. She hoped she wasn't coming off as a frightened little puppy. Then again, it was hard to be much else after she had just been jumped.

Then a thought occurred to her. There was a question that had been burning in her mind for the past nine years and he was with the only person who could answer it. She was about to open her mouth when Rorschach abruptly stopped walking. Renée skidded to a stop a few steps ahead of him and whipped her head around as he stood in front of the door of the old building where she claimed residence. Eyeing the seemingly abandoned housing complex curiously, he wondered if this was really where she lived. "Hurmmm..." he drawled as he ended his thought. He'd done enough for one night and was now lingering far too long for his liking. Looking back in front of him, he noticed that the girl was now facing him, resting a hand on the guard rail next to them and was looking up with a guarded smile. It was one of those rare, sincere smiles that you'd get from someone had seen better days. After realising their proximity he took a few steps back, nodded, and then started walking in the other direction.

"Wait!" she called, but he just kept walking. Seeing this as her only chance, she decided to ask anyway. Whether he answered or not, she needed to at least get it out there. "Rorschach...How did I end up in that orphanage?" His eyes widened and he came to a halt. Slowly turning around, he gave a slight humourless chuckle. "Huh...so it is you." He furrowed his brows and smirked ironically. He knew he had a hunch, but he didn't think it'd actually be her. All these years...all these years and she actually came back. She really must've had nowhere else to go. His guess was that this was her old home before she ran away.

As mildly interesting as the whole situation was, he didn't feel the need to get involved any further. He'd already saved her skin twice and the last thing he wanted to do was to get all mixed up with a woman. "I just wanted to say thanks for saving me. Tonight _and _all those years back. I don't where I'd be right now if it wasn't for you, Rorschach" _Thank you_? No one had ever _thanked _him before. They'd usually be gone before the scum was taken care of, or they'd just stand there gawking like a snivelling child.

Then again, he'd never walked someone home. And he was pretty sure he'd never saved someone twice. As if reading his mind, she went on. "You'd think I'd learn after the first..." she said distantly. She had already made her way up the few steps and was now facing him, looking down with both hands on the railing. It looked like some modern, twisted scene from Romeo and Juliet sans the romanticism and poetry. Instead they stood on a dark dank street in Manhattan lit up by dozens upon dozens of streetlights.

"You sound bitter" he stated, noticing the slight crease in her brow. She scoffed lightly before looking back down at him, watching the inkblots on his face shift chaotically for a moment before speaking again. "Well not to seem ungrateful, but life at an orphanage isn't all it's cracked up to be, despite the cheery tunes in _Little Orphan Annie_. I wasn't given a new lease on life, just put through a bearable hell..." she trailed off as she opened the door and stepped into the frame. "...well, goodnight Rorschach." She said softly, turning her head around to get one last look at him. "The owl ship..." Furrowing her brow in confusion, she whipped around. "Sorry?"

"After I found you, tracked down Night Owl and dropped you off at an orphanage using the owl ship" he stated simply.

"Oh, I uh-"

"Goodnight, Renée" and with that, he turned on his heel and made his way down the sidewalk. Slipping inside, she shut the door with her back and sighed. She hadn't expected him to answer her question, but she was glad he did. With a faint smile, she made her way upstairs to get ready for some well-deserved sleep. Meanwhile, Rorschach continued his skulking. Resuming his vigilante duties, he couldn't fully come to terms with what she had said: "_I wasn't given a new lease on life, just put through a bearable hell..." _What was that supposed to mean? Shaking off his lingering thoughts, he tried to stay task focused and closed that line of thinking with a soft grunt. Perhaps, if the thought occurred, he'd pay a visit to Dreiberg. "Huh... Déjà-Vu."

* * *

*A/N: And there you have it. Expect to see Dan in the next chapter. Beyond that though, I just might not include any other heroes. We'll see where this goes. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! :)


	3. Clutching At Straws

*Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen in any way, shape or form. Only the plot and OC.

**A/N: Third chapter's up. I borrowed some lines from the novel for the introduction in case the dialogue sounds a little familiar to you. Here we see our OC interacting with some secondary characters in the novel. Meanwhile Rorschach lays some big news on Dreiberg. We'll see how that goes. Anyway, I wanna give a big thanks to the readers so far! Your reviews offered a lot of helpful advice and gave me the drive to keep going! I have a really bad habit of starting a story and not finishing it, but not this time! I promise you that. **

**P.S. Serious question: Does anyone know if _Where's Waldo_ was around in the 80's? 70's?**

* * *

~ _Later that night_ ~

After a quiet evening of reminiscence and a few drinks with Hollis Mason, Dan Dreiberg made his way down the night fallen Manhattan street. It was nice, catching up on old times every once in a while. But every time he'd finish recounting some random tale of heroism, be it a foiled bank robbery or a simple mugging, Dan would always feel a faint pang in his heart.

Deep down, he missed it all.

Although he'd never say it out loud, he secretly longed for the days of donning a mask and cape, keeping the city safe from evil doers and such. With a light scoff, he dismissed it. It was a stupid of him to think of such things. In the long run, he figured, he was better off a quiet civilian.

Clutching the collar of his coat with both hands, he picked up his pace to avoid the rain that had begun to fall. Finally reaching his door, he dropped his keys at the sight before him. The lock had been kicked in. Picking up his keys, he slowly pushed the broken door open with his finger tips and inched his way in. Squinting through his glasses, he noticed his kitchen light had been turned on. Tiptoeing down the hall with fists at the ready, he strained his ears for any sign of the intruder being in there. Sure enough, light metal scraping sounds could be heard from within. As he approached, he could make out the faint sounds of chewing. Reaching the door, he carefully pushed it open to find...

"Hello, Daniel."

"Rorschach...?"

As he got up, he continued. "Helped myself to some beans. Hope you don't mind."

Truth be told, he could care less whether the man minded or not. He knew Dreiberg well enough to know that he was a pathological people pleaser. Didn't matter what he thought, so long as everyone else was happy. "Uh...That is, no! No, of course I don't mind..."

_Pathetic._

Rorschach could tell by the look on his ex-partner's face that the situation had left him a little dumbfounded, though he hid it well. Despite the clear intrusion on his privacy, he appeared totally fine with it. For God's sake, he just broke into the man's home! Either way, Rorschach wasn't there to rant about Daniel's...inadequacies.

He was there to reveal a certain discovery he had made earlier that night.

"So, uh...Long time no see! How have you been keeping?" Dan inquired while removing his coat. With a soft grunt, Rorschach pulled down his mask and stood up to face him.

"Out of prison. So far"

"Is uh...is something the matter?"

"As a matter of fact...no."

Seeing Daniel's eyebrows shoot skyward, he continued.

"Just came by to tell you...found something interesting earlier tonight. Someone you might remember."

His interest peaked, he turned his attention to the door next to the counter. Twisting the knob, he turned back to Rorschach. "Uh, listen, maybe we could talk about this downstairs. I feel kinda exposed up here." With a nod of understanding, Rorschach followed Daniel down the dimly lit stairs which led to his workshop. Reaching the bottom, Daniel pulled down the lever and all the lights went up, illuminating all his old, forgotten gadgets. Rorschach couldn't understand how Dreiberg could keep himself from this treasure trove for all these years. If it were him, he would have gone insane. As opposed to his normal, well-rounded, personality disorder-free self that is.

"So, uh...who's the mystery man?"

"Not man...woman"

Daniel's head whipped around to face Rorschach. Since when did _he_ talk to _women_? Then again, since when did he talk to anyone at all, really. Feeling a sudden rush of awkwardness, he absentmindedly fiddled with the frames of his glasses and cleared his throat.

"Uh, w-uh who is she?"

"Name's Renée. Picked her up several years ago after a failed kidnapping," he began, swiping his index finger along the glass wall that contained Daniel's Night Owl costume.

Looking down at his now dust-layered finger, he continued. "Sent her to an orphanage in Queens under the assumption that she came from an abusive family,"

Wiping the dust off with his thumb, he turned to face Daniel.

"You helped."

Dragging a hand through his hair, Daniel slowly nodded and let out a chuckle. Looking back at the owl ship, a faint smile of reminiscence crept onto his face.

"H'yeah...yeah, I remember. Boy that sure was a while ago. How d'you know it was her?"

"Caught a group of thugs trying to make off with her again"

"You're kidding!"

Rorschach ignored the remark.

"Right. Well, what are you suggesting?"

"Hurmm..." He began, rubbing his chin.

"...Find it very unlikely that she would be coincidentally jumped twice in the same area, especially with such a long time gap between both instances."

"Wait, didn't her father have something to with all this?"

"Robert Arnaud. Wanted for multiple drug and theft charges. Ran with a small underground drug syndicate in his youth. Left later on to start a family," he said, looking down at the table filled with Daniel's many Night Owl 'accessories'.

Following his gaze, Daniel stared intently at one particular canister. It looked like a smoke bomb. "So what does it all have to do with her?" Looking back up at Daniel, he continued.

"After he left, Arnaud still had some...'debts' to repay. Seems he'd jumped a drug dealer or two from a rival gang and had been caught. Supposedly through some informants that knew Robert personally, the gang managed to get information on his family." Letting go of the object that Daniel had taken to dusting off, he turned his full attention to Rorschach with a deep furrow in his brow.

"You can figure out how the rest of the story goes" Rorschach finally concluded, jamming his hands into his pockets and making his way down the steps next to the tunnel.

"So you're thinking they've found her again?"

"I'm_ thinking_...it's a possibility"

"Rorschach, don't you think that's a little paranoid?"

"That's what they're saying about me now? That I'm paranoid?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that it's a slim-to-nil chance. It could have been just random violence!"

"Could be...Could also be the first lead to taking down an entire underground organization of murderers, rapists and drug dealers."

"Rorschach, I'm not-"

"Relax, Daniel. Realized about half way through our conversation that you wouldn't help out, despite how much you want to. I see the way you look at all this. It's a portal to the past. To your so-called 'glory days', back when the well being of humanity outweighed the want for a normal life. If that's what you wanna call what you're living in now."

And with that, Rorschach turned back around to face the tunnel, all the while being watched by a very stunned Daniel.

"Be seeing you, Dan...Enjoy wallowing in obscurity"

As Daniel watched Rorschach's form fade into darkness, he shuffled over to the display case that held his goggles and eyed them carefully. Grabbing them, he plopped down on a crate and ran his hands over every crevice of the goggles as a blind man would to shape the picture of it in his mind. And with a weary sigh, Daniel simply sat there, wallowing in obscurity.

* * *

~ _The next day _~

Stepping out onto the sunlit city street, Renée set out of her home with a spring in her step. Looking around at the hustle and bustle of early morning Manhattan, she didn't quite know where to start.

To make a halfway decent living, she would have to find a job.

With an annoyed huff, she decided to head east. Her mission was to track down the first diner in sight and apply there. She figured it wouldn't be too hard, seeing as how there was at least one at practically every street corner. After a short while, a magazine stand caught her attention so she stopped to read some of the headlines. Without realising, she almost tripped over a boy who had taken to sitting next to the stand, reading a comic book.

"Woops! Sorry about that, little man", she uttered as she looked down and behind her with a smile. By the looks of him, he was only a couple of years younger than she was. He sported a brown leather jacket, tight jeans and a pair of worn-out sneakers. Lifting the self-rolled cigarette from his lips momentarily, he replied without even looking up from his comic book.

"S'alright"

With a curious hum, Renée kneeled down next to him. She figured she'd get to know him before asking for directions.

"Whatcha reading there, sport?"

With a furrow in his brow, he looked up. His annoyance dissipated instantly when he looked at her, cheeks flushing pink. Needless to say, he knew a pretty girl when he saw one. His cigarette now hanging limp from his fingers, he replied.

"'T-uh-tales of the Black Freighter'"

"Ooh, what's that all about?"

"Oh, well uh, there's this dude, right? Yeah. He's pissed 'cause this gang o' pirates killed his family and now he wants revenge...That's pretty much all I've read so far" he said with a chuckle.

"Hmm, sounds pretty intense. Since when did comic books have to get all existential?"

"Haha, right" he hastily replied, pretending he knew what the last word meant.

Slowly getting up, she figured she'd ask him now. "Listen, do you know where I can find a diner around here? See, I'm looking for a job."

His face fell a little at the sight of her leaving as he replied. "If you keep walking down the street and hang you first left, you'll see the Gunga Diner. By the way, my name's Jesse."

What a nice boy, she thought with a smile. "Thank you, Jesse. And my name's Renée. Guess I'll be seeing you a lot more often, huh."

Beaming, he waved to her goodbye. Returning the wave with a smile, she turned back to make her way to this 'Gunga Diner'. Meanwhile, just a few feet away, the newsstand owner looked down at his watch and gasped.

"Oh, Shit! I'm late! Hey kid, I'm gonna hafta take that comic book back from you now."

"The hell! Why?"

"Look kid I gotta close up for a few hours, so skedaddle!"

Not wanting to throw away his entire day's schedule without a fight, Jesse sought some solution to the problem. Without having to look too far down the sidewalk, he got an idea.

"No worries man, just gimme _one _second!" and with that, he got up in one quick motion and jogged a few feet down the sidewalk. "What the hell d'you think yer doin'?!" the man yelled after the boy, but was ultimately ignored.

Renée let out a startled yelp at the feeling of her arm being pulled back and she whipped around to see the same boy she had just spoken to, now pulling her back down the sidewalk.

"What's the big idea, Jesse?" she curtly inquired, trying not to lose her footing as she was dragged back.

"Chill, Renée. I found you a job!"

Before she could inquire any further, she was shoved right in front of the confused-looking newsstand owner. He was a stocky, oldish looking man who wore a hat. Brow furrowing in even deeper confusion (if that was even possible) he turned to the subject of his annoyance.

"And who is _she_?"

"A temp, yo. She could fill in for as long as yer gone so you won't hafta close up. 'Sides, she was lookin' for a job anyway."

Both Renée and the owner pondered for a moment. On the one hand, there was no assurance of her actually getting a job right away should she simply show up at the diner. But this guy would never-

"Fine, kid. You're lucky I'm in a hurry."

Both Renée and Jesse appeared quite astonished that he'd actually agreed to it. Turning to the girl now, he smiled warmly at her and stuck out his right hand.

"Name's Reggie Barns, but you can call me Regg."

Accepting the handshake, she returned the smile.

"Hello, Regg. My name's Renée."

"Hello, Renée. You look like you've got a good head on your shoulders so I'm trustin' you with this stand for a few hours" Going behind the stand for a moment, he reappeared with a wad of bills in his hand.

"Here's twenty bucks. Now I'll give ya another one if my stand's still here when I get back" he said with a chuckle.

"Thanks, Regg. This means a lot to me"

"Likewise, kid."

"So I just give out what people ask for?"

"Pretty much. And if anyone gives ya a hard time, junior here's gotcher back" he replied, winking at the blushing boy.

"Yeah man, no worries. Now, don't you have somewhere to be, old man?"

"Shit yer right! Well I'd best be going," he hastily replied as he turned to leave.

"Take care, Renée! Make sure that kid don't steal anything!"

Returning his wave, she laughed softly.

"Okay Regg, I'll keep an eye on him"

Turning around, she moved to sit on the chair next to the stand. As she stepped past her new friend, who had taken to sitting back down in his spot, she reached down and ruffled his dark curly hair.

"Thanks, bud"

"No problem, yo" he replied. With his face hidden behind the comic book, she hadn't noticed the big grin he'd been sporting the entire time.

* * *

~_ Hours later_ ~

As the sun hung directly above her, Renée read over the same page in the same magazine she had already read fifteen times. It was only mid-day and she was beginning to get restless. So far, there had only been a couple of customers, all buying the same copy of the _Gazette_. With a restless sigh, she opted for getting some small talk out of the boy that sat to her right.

"How do you do it, Jess...Just sitting here, day in and day out?"

"Well normally, the old man's always blabberin' about some issue gripping the world. That usually passes the time. I just sit here, sometimes readin' a comic book, sometimes listenin' to the old dude's jibber jabber."

With a weary hum, she plopped her elbow on the shelf to her left and rested her cheek in her hand. She'd let him read his comic book in peace, for now. Maybe she could set the booth on fire and say some teenagers did it. She chuckled through her nose at the image of her burning something out of boredom like some kind of pyromaniac.

"Oh yeah! There's something the old man forgot to tell ya"

Lifting her head like a dog that had been jolted awake by a loud noise, she turned to look down at the boy next to her.

"What? What'd he forget?"

"Well...Every day, this freaky dude comes by for a copy of _The New Frontiersman_. Regg only orders one 'cause no one else reads it. It should be in the back there somewhere, 'case the guy shows up"

With a look of absolute intrigue, Renée hopped out of her seat and jogged to the back of the stand. Sure enough, there lay a copy of _The New Frontiersman_ in its own little cardboard box. Warily she picked it up and looked over some of the headlines. Frowning a little, she read over the first couple of pages, and then closed it. "Hmm...Nothing like right-wing press to start your day" she said and lightly scoffed. She was never one to get politically involved, but she did have a sense of right and wrong. And right (wing) was definitely wrong. In her opinion at least. Placing it underneath the chair, she wondered who this 'freaky dude' Jesse spoke of was.

Before her imagination got too out of hand, a shadow suddenly loomed over her and blocked out the sun. Her head slowly drifting up, she was faced with a man in a dark overcoat, holding a sandwich board over his shoulder with words written on it that read 'THE END IS NIGH'. Chilling as the words were, she came to the realisation that this was the same man who had helped her find her way the day she had moved back in to the city. She was almost certain that he hadn't remembered her though, so she decided not to make a fuss over it.

"Good morning, sir"

Standing in his own shadow, he looked rather menacing, especially with the sudden grimace that flashed across his features the moment he registered her face. Had she said something wrong?

"Hmm...Where's the old man?"

Though it was meant to sound like a question, it came out as an order. Wearing a guarded smile she politely answered.

"Mr. Barns stepped out a few hours ago and won't be back 'til later this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?"

By now she had stood up, soon after which the man took a step back. Frowning a little at the news, he continued.

"Perhaps. Owner usually holds a copy of _The New Frontiersman_ for me."

Smiling, she knelt down to pick up the newspaper she had carefully placed under the chair and held it in front of him.

"Right here, sir."

He nodded with a humourless smirk as he reached into his pocket for change. Looking up at the sign, she decided to use it as a conversation starter.

"So...how's the end of the world coming along?"

Taking his hand out of his pocket, change in hand, he replied completely stoic-faced.

"Today for certain. I've read the signs. _National Examiner _reported a three-headed dog born in Newark"

Renée's playful smile had long since faded. Unfazed by this he continued.

"Today for certain."

Looking down, she noticed his hand outstretched, offering her the change.

"Oh, right. Here you go. Sorry about that. Just...new at this."

As she reached for the change, their fingers touched for a moment. She made a mental note of how quickly his hand retreated into his pocket.

"So you'll tell the old man to keep my paper for me tomorrow?"

Opening her mouth to answer, she noticed that he'd already started walking away.

"Uh...sure, no sweat. I'll let him know"

Sitting back down, she went back to propping her elbow onto the table and resting her head in her hand.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she thought it was Jesse.

"You won't forget?"

When the voice didn't match who she thought it was, her head fell right out of her hand, slamming her chin onto the hard surface of the table. Whipping her head around, she wanted to give him an aggravated look. Instead, she ended up shooting daggers into his back as he turned to walk away again. With an irritated groan, she began rubbing her sore chin.

"Told ya he was a freaky dude." Jesse remarked through a chuckle.

* * *

~ _Later that night_ ~

As she closed the door behind her, Renée plopped onto the cot she had laid out for herself with a weary sigh. Two nights and all she had acquired was forty bucks, a numb butt from sitting down all day, a sore chin, and a bump on the noggin. Rubbing her head, she found it odd that it would only cause her pain at night. She would have to get that checked out soon. In the meantime, all she could think of was Rorschach. It was the only way she could ever manage to get through five hours of watching a newsstand without getting creative with a lighter and a tank of gasoline.

They would just be random fantasies of feats of heroism like beating up thugs, saving a kid from a burning building, rescuing a girl from being mugged.

But not just any girl.

She would sigh wistfully as she thought of yet another sequence in which the masked stranger would save her from some impending doom. The whole idea sounded so romantic to her. But she knew like all things shrouded in mystery, there was a lot more to it than saving a damsel in distress. As her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, she thought of yet another Rorschach rescue scenario until she completely succumbed to sleep.

A few hours later Renée was jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. She had had one of those nightmares again. The ones she could never remember but left her with cold, sweaty and shaking limbs. Taking a few calming breaths, she got up and walked to the window. Maybe it was just the heat that was bothering, she thought as she opened it. All she wore was a long baggy T-shirt due to the lack of an air conditioner. Sticking her head out, she opted for sitting on the window sill, leaving her legs to dangle over the edge.

Despite the possible thirty foot drop, she sighed and looked out at the panorama, which consisted of a giant billboard mounted on the side of a sky scraper. It featured an attractive blonde pulling up her stocking with a caption that read "Oh, how the ghost of you clings..." with the subtitle "NOSTALGIA by Veidt". A fragrance ad, she concluded. Though she knew it was nothing more than a marketing tool, she looked up at it and smiled slightly.

It helped her think back to better times.

Quality time spent with her brother, her mother's voice, and her brief encounters with Rorschach all came into her mind as she basked in the first sense of happiness and belonging she had felt in the longest time. Hooking her left foot around her right ankle, she gripped the window sill on either side of her. Leaning forward a little, she looked up at the sky. It was a cloudy night and the only thing she could make out was an ad blimp that faded in and out of view. She figured that even if there were no clouds, the light pollution would have certainly dimmed the starlight anyway.

With a slight frown, she looked down at the street below. A car would slowly pass by every now and then. Meanwhile, she counted at least six hookers that trotted up and down the street. It was like playing a sick, sexual version of Where's Waldo. With a scoff, she decided to close her eyes, the initial fright of her nightmare long since forgotten. Every where she looked, there was something wrong with the picture. Be it pollution, shameless marketing, or moral decay.

But one thing Renée hadn't seen stood against the side of an alley across from where she sat, shrouded in shadows, writing away in his journal. As he finished, he placed the book into his chest pocket and shoved both hands into his pockets and looked around. Rorschach decided that the best place to start finding a lead was near the residence. Looking up, he squinted a little through his mask to make out the form of the girl sitting at her window sill, looking down at the street below with a slight frown.

Humming curiously, he wondered what possessed a young woman to sit on her window ledge at three in the morning without wanting to jump. For a moment, he contemplated whether she was actually suicidal, and then shrugged it off. She didn't seem the type. Far too happy and not yet given up on human kindness. He noticed that during his encounter with her earlier that same day. He managed to hide his initial shock at seeing her again, but didn't enjoy that brief moment of contact between their hands.

He made a mental note of wearing gloves at all times.

The only woman he would ever consider an 'acquaintance' was Laurie, whom he was not too fond of to begin with. Far too corrupted and attached to melodrama. Still, he was coming to the realisation that he would have to interrogate this Renée person in order to advance any further in his hunt to bring down this organization. With a sigh of resentment he retreated further into the alley. He needed to rid himself of a strange feeling of impatience that began creeping over him.

"This won't be over soon enough" he mumbled dismally as he took one last look at the girl he would eventually have to talk to again.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter dragged on a bit. I've been having a bit of trouble getting the flow of this story just right, so lemme know what you all think by reviewing! :)**


	4. The Awful Truth

**A/N: Fourth chapter's up. There'll be some _mild _intimacy between Rorschach and Renée in this one. The story's progressing a bit better than I thought it would, so I'm happy in that regard :)**

Sometime in the early afternoon, Renée staggered out of her cot with a groan. The panging in her skull had intensified since the previous night and she needed to have it checked out as soon as possible.

Today was not going to be a good day. She just knew it.

After her usual daily routine, she trudged down the steps in front of the apartment, wincing on impact as she stumbled on the last step. Clutching the side of her head and fisting her hair, she slowly made her way down the street. Instead of trying her patience with the afternoon commuters, she decided to go straight to her reliable source of information. After a few minutes of walking, she approached the newsstand, only to find that her new friend wasn't sitting in his usual spot. With a deep frown, she turned to leave.

"Lookin' for the kid? Eh, pretty sure he's got school or somethin'"

Turning around slowly, she saw Regg sitting in his usual spot by the newsstand with a smile on his face.

"Thanks, Regg. Say, I was wondering if you could point out the nearest hospital. I need to get my head checked out. I, uh...fell down the stairs" she muttered a little weakly, casting her eyes to the ground at that last part. His face had slowly shifted from a smile to a look of concern.

"Geez, hope you feel better, kid. Uh, hospital's 'bout two blocks west once you reach the end of the street"

Turning to leave, she thanked him and waved goodbye. After what seemed like ages, she finally reached the hospital. Lolling her head back, she noticed how heavy the clouds had gotten. Frowning at the thought of having to face rain later on, she stepped into the building, immediately eyeing the main desk.

"Excuse me miss, which way to the emergency room?"

Looking up from her magazine, the old woman had a glazed look in her eye. Chewing her gum like a cow would chew grass, she pointed a long, fluorescent pink finger nail to the hall on the left. With a nod of thanks, she made her way down the dimly lit hall. She was none too fond of the sights, sounds, heck, even smells of a hospital. It reminded her too vividly of death. Cringing inwardly, she entered a room filled with chairs and a slightly more pleasant-looking woman behind the desk. Save for a few people, the hospital wasn't too busy today. Her guess was that they were preparing for the evening rush. Timidly approaching the desk, a black woman with the widest grin she had ever seen greeted her.

"Afternoon, ma'am. What seems to be the problem?"

Relieved at the sight of a kind soul, her demeanour lightened slightly as she rubbed the side of her head.

"Well a couple days ago, I had a pretty nasty fall down a flight of stairs. It didn't bother me too much at first, except at night. But this morning, it felt like there were rocks banging around in my skull and any move I make causes me even more pain"

At this point, she noticed the woman had begun jotting down a few things on a clipboard. "Alright, child. Now, are you well enough to fill out some paperwork?"

A sudden rush of anxiety washed over her from head to toe. She had no legal documents to refer to, let alone a permanent address. She couldn't think of a way to weasel out of filling the forms just yet, so she smiled and nodded politely. Returning the smile, the woman handed her the clipboard and a pen.

"Just hand it back when you're done and we'll call you when a doctor's free..." noticing her slightly paled face and twitching lips she continued with a warm smile.

"Don't worry, darling. The doctor ain't gonna hurt you none" she assured her, giving her a little wink before turning back to answer a phone call.

Settling into one of the not-so comfy chairs, she decided to bullshit her way through the entire form, right down to her last name. If they found out where she 'lived'...well, she wasn't too sure but she would rather be left alone.

After ten minutes of staring at the ceiling, Renée was called in. Through some extensive testing, the doctor revealed that she was suffering from some very mild head trauma. The worst of it was over apparently and she would continue to have these night-time headaches for up to four days. Remembering the true cause of the injury, she sighed anxiously. She made a point to avoid going out after dark at all costs, no matter what the reason. Back in the main area, Renée stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. Stores and bus stops were crowded with people trying to avoid the sudden torrential rain that had begun to fall. She decided to wait out the rain for a bit in the hospital, when a shrill voice behind her began shouting in the thickest Brooklyn accent she had ever heard.

"I'm sorry miss ya can't stay here. We need to keep the path clear for an emergency"

With a grumble and after uttering a stray curse, she opened the door only to be welcomed by a relentless down pour. It was already almost nine, but the heavy clouds made it seem darker than it really was. Jogging down the street, all the while hugging herself tightly to keep as dry as possible, Renée looked around desperately seeking some form of shelter from the storm. All the little awnings and signs that jutted out from the side of buildings were crammed with people. Stopping at a street corner, she looked around helplessly. By now, she had been drenched from head to toe, her hair clumped together like heavy, wet ropes. Frantically turning her head left and right (all the while getting slapped in the face by her whip-like locks of hair), she reluctantly decided to duck into an alley to wait out the worst of it.

Above her on the wall where she now leaned, a little awning stuck out a few feet above her head. Breathing a sigh of relief at the make-shift umbrella, she took the opportunity to wring her hair of as much water as she could. Dragging a hand over her face, she wiped the thin layer of dripping water that had accumulated over it.

Once her hand had dropped back down to her side, she noticed a shadowy figure standing across from her leaning on the opposite wall.

At first she dismissed it, thinking it was her own shadow, or maybe even a pile of garbage. These and other theories were dashed when she noticed it shift around a little. Her eyes widening, she wanted to make a run for it. But, maybe she was just being paranoid. After all, it could have been just another person trying to get out of the rain. Looking down the front of the alley, the main street was about eight feet from where she now stood. Were it not for the rain, the street would be full of people passing by.

If he wanted to, the assailant could have gotten away with murder.

Swallowing a lump of fear at her own thoughts, she turned back to face the stranger...who had since advanced on her and now stood a mere two feet away. With a cry, she turned her head away clamping her eyes shut, and moved to punch him in the throat.

~ _Half an hour ago_ ~

Casually exiting the bar, Rorschach walked down the street for a bit before turning into the alley. He had just broken a man's arm to get information on anything or anyone associated with Robert Arnaud. His assumption that he had already been found and killed proved to be fact. Apparently another man in his own family (brother, son, nephew, he wasn't sure) had taken it upon himself to shoot him for putting his family in jeopardy. A week later, the man was gunned down during a drive-by shooting. Other than that, he hadn't learned much else. He chuckled at the memory of the man writhing and squealing in protest under Rorschach merciless grip. Before hitting the main streets, he quickly removed his coat, hat and mask, grabbing his overcoat and sign that he had hid behind a dumpster, and continued down the alley until he hit the sidewalk. Looking up, he noticed the clouds that had begun rolling in and walked a little faster to the newsstand. With the events that had preceded, he had nearly forgotten about his daily paper.

Reaching the old man, he stood in front of him until he was noticed. The man was in the middle of dishing out his usual news vendor's spiel to the boy that sat at his feet, deeply immersed in his...literature.

"Oh, uh. Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon. Is it here yet?"

"Sure, it's here! I keep it every day for you, don't I?" Grabbing it, he briefly turned to the boy sitting below.

"Hey kid, d'I tell ya about what's happened with the girl?"

Closing his comic book, Jesse looked up and removed the cigarette from his lips and furrowed his brow.

"Ya don't mean Renée, do ya?"

His eye briefly twitching at the subject of the conversation before him, Walter pretended not to pay attention. As the man absent-mindedly handed him the paper, he answered the concerned boy.

"Yeah...Came by this afternoon while you were in school, asking for directions to the hospital. Said something about a bump on the head. Poor, kid" he finished with a little frown, and then turned back to Walter with a forced smile.

"Sorry about that, pal. Here you go, as promised."

Quickly handing him the change, he grabbed the newsprint from the man and hastily turned to leave. For some reason, a sudden rush of anxiety had crashed on him like a wave, but he wrote it off as fear of losing his only link to getting some hard hitting evidence. Backtracking, he made his way to the spot he had hid is costume and quickly changed back. The other end of the alley reached out just a block away from the hospital, so he decided to make his way down to the far end and wait for her to pass by. He figured the sooner he could get information from her, the sooner he could get her out of his life. As he began to walk, he felt a few drops of rain fall on his hat, so he stopped and looked up. It was going to be a hell of a storm. With a soft grunt, he decided to wait out the worst of it until he could continue to make his way down. There were still several meters between him and the exit, so he decided to lean against the wall and make some notes for now.

"_Rorschach's Journal, September 10__th__ 1985: Broke a man's arm to get a lead in my quest to take down this organization. His deafening cries of pain were like sweet music to my ears. This momentary feeling of gratification was fleeting as I hadn't gotten enough information to follow this case on my own. I shall go to her now, the girl that may be my only chance in bringing down this syndicate. I only hope that I do-"_

Before he was able to finish the last sentence, his head shot up at the sound of heavy, sloshing footsteps running into the alley. By now, the rain fell hard and heavy and Rorschach found himself squinting to see who it was. Watching her wring her hair, he thought he'd seen her before.

"Hurmm..." he drawled as he squinted his eyes and tilted his head slightly.

It was her alright. At least now he didn't have to go on some wild goose chase to track her down. Rorschach went unnoticed by Renée as he stood next to a dumpster down the alley and against the opposite wall. Her drenched, white long-sleeve now appeared translucent as it clung to her body, her dark shorts clinging to her upper thighs with the same tenacity. She appeared either unaware of it or she just didn't care. As he continued to watch her, he found it strange. Though she had no intention of portraying a provocative image, she had unknowingly done so, and for that reason...he found it difficult to look away. Prostitutes paid the utmost attention and care to their physical appearance to look enticing to men (though Rorschach found it difficult to simply look in their direction without wanting to retch). Yet here was this...this _girl_, whom without even trying, had managed to catch his intrigue and confound the vigilante to the point that he wondered if his ideology could explain this.

Just as he had managed to snap out of it, something else had caught his attention. Noticing the way her body suddenly tensed and the way her eyes widened in the direction of the wall directly across from her put him on high alert. Following her line of vision, he immediately caught sight of a possible assailant standing in the shadows. Squinting through the down pour, he grumbled softly, annoyed with himself that he hadn't caught sight of the brute's poor attempt at stealth earlier. Gripping the edge of the dumpster with both hands, he was prepared to pounce if need be. Suddenly, he saw the girl's demeanour lighten a bit and turned her head to look down the alley as it ended at the main street. The man across from her also seemed to notice as he advanced on her, and with that, Rorschach swiftly leaped over the dumpster and bolted for the attacker.

...

It all happened so fast, but time seemed to stand still for them all.

Renée screamed.

Her hand shot out...

...Only to be caught by the attacker's.

He brought up his other hand to grab her...

...Only to have his wrist snatched by a strong, unknown, gloved one.

Releasing her hand, he was tersely pulled aside...

...Only to face the sharp, languid motions of ink against a white mask.

The attacker's face fell, then paled as Rorschach's other hand shot out and grasped his throat firmly.

Shoving him against the wall, he grabbed the man's face, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

With a harsh tug and a series of loud cracks, the man let out one last helpless squeal as the last bit of life was drained from him.

Throwing him carelessly into the dumpster behind him, he turned to face the awestruck girl who had watched the events unfold.

Time resumed.

As they stood there looking at each other under the awning, Renée suddenly felt exposed. The sense of romanticism that would have come of this just wasn't there and she felt a little embarrassed for thinking that it would. Hugging herself tightly, she began chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes wandering everywhere but his face. She would have thanked him right then and there, but she didn't. There was no way she could put it without sounding whiny, helpless or awkward. His presence was just so unnerving, from his straight and stiff posture to his expressionless visage. As her eyes cast down, she let out a soft chuckle.

"You'd think by the third time, we'd have a set protocol" she said bitter sweetly.

Humming curiously, Rorschach looked up and noticed that the rain was beginning to let up a little. Inching away slightly, it was Renée's turn to give him a wary but curious look. He seemed to be mulling over her words, a far cry from ignoring her as he once did. And then it hit her.

"Were you...were you waiting for me?" she warily asked.

If she was wrong, it would have made her out to be very petty and self-absorbed. But as his head slowly came down from its skyward angle to face her, she knew she was right.

"Some questions I need to ask you" he bluntly stated.

She immediately stopped chewing her lip and held it loosely between her teeth until it slipped out, leaving her mouth slightly agape. What had gotten it in his mind that she had any sort of information for someone of his...occupation?

"What _kind_ of questions?" she asked, her wary tone unwavering.

Turning his whole body to face her now, he continued.

"Trying to bring down a drug syndicate. Need your help."

He spoke as if he expected her to know what he was talking about. Needless to say, his words left her stunned. Not caring if she was standing in the rain a little, she took another step back. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful that he had just saved her for the third time in her godforsaken life, but the urge to run was now at the forefront of her mind. Eyeing him warily, she stored away another fact about him.

He had a knack for making people feel extremely uncomfortable.

"And what information do you think _I_ have that could help _you_ in this bold endeavour?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity apparent in her tone.

This caused him to hum and narrow his eyes, unbeknownst to her. There was a light sarcasm in her voice that he didn't appreciate and only heightened his annoyance.

"Hurmm...Require certain information regarding your father and any other males in your immediate family."

The quirk in her brow straightened as she let go of her herself. If she wasn't at full attention before, she was now. At the mention of her father, the sound of rain fall and cars driving by seemed to dissipate. The world around her ceased to exist until it was only her and Rorschach.

Right then, he noticed something in her eyes. The distant, crushing sadness that he had pinpointed a few nights ago was apparent once again. It was practically radiating off of her.

Then, he felt something.

Something he'd only felt when he thought back to Blair Roche, when he thought of the pain and suffering she had been put through and how she cried out for her mother and father. And how eagerly she must have welcomed death when it was finally brought down on her.

He felt sorry for this girl.

They were silent for a while. But the awkwardness had left, and it was simply the two of them standing in front of each other, inspecting the person before them. It was as if they were facing one another in a strange game of deception, taking in what they already knew and using that to decipher the true meaning behind it all.

It was then that they had an unspoken understanding. Neither fully trusted the other.

Breaking their analytical gaze briefly, Renée noticed his shoulders drop a little. His intimidating demeanour had softened a little, causing her lips to twitch to prevent the smile that was threatening to show.

"What exactly does my father have to do with bringing down a drug syndicate?" she asked, now using his method of blatancy.

"Used to run with that crowd. 'Till he started a family. Ends left untied. Family caught in mess. You know how the rest goes." He replied, lifting his shoulders back up and resuming his dominance between the two of them.

She stood there, enduring the new wave of anxiety that crashed on her. But instead of standing there, dramatically reacting to every word he spoke, she felt the sudden need to take a stand. Rorschach knew more about her than he was letting on. Narrowing her eyes a little, she searched her mind for the right way to word her questions.

"What do you mean by 'family caught in mess'?" she asked, her voice gaining the confidence she desperately needed at this time.

"Thought I was the one asking the questions" he stated very matter-of-factedly.

She remained silent, her gaze unwavering.

Perhaps he had underestimated her. This was a far cry from the girl he had rescued several years, or a few nights ago for that matter. With a low chuckle, he decided to humour her.

"Ha ha...Well, I'm sure you recall the events that transpired all those years ago. That was a hit. On you." He replied dryly.

Smirking humourlessly a little under his mask, he noticed the confidence drain from her slightly. He wasn't sure if telling her the last bit would be taking it too far. He decidedly continued.

"Police called off the search for you, assuming you'd been killed. Arnaud...you're father, thought he was off the hook."

He hesitated. She was clinging to his every word now, having stepped a bit closer now.

"Well...what happened?" she anxiously inquired, casting aside any confidence she had managed to muster up.

With a 'you asked for it' sort of sigh, he concluded, all the while keeping his dry tone intact.

"A man close to him found out what really happened. Blinded by rage, he shot your father. A week later, was gunned down in a drive-by shooting. Had been a close relative of yours. You might know him as Benjamin Arnaud."

His words cut through her heart like a knife. She became lost, wide eyed, in the chaotic pattern that adorned his face, as if she hadn't heard him correctly. Lolling her head to the right, she remembered where she was. The alley, the street, the city, the rest of the world came back into view. And as reality came crashing down on her, she didn't know what else to do. Without much warning, Renée threw herself at Rorschach, pressing her tiny, drenched body right up against him and buried her face into the warmth of his chest. Fisting his collar with both hands, she began to cry.

Immediately, his body tensed. He knew somehow he'd regret telling her the whole story. Well now, he figured, he was paying for it. His forearms shot up at mid-bend and remained in the air, unsure of what to do. He couldn't recall the last time he felt such discomfort. Then he opened his ears. The sobs that wracked her body sounded completely hopeless and bitter. He recalled his feeling of sympathy for her. She herself didn't appear accustomed to letting her emotions loose as she did at this very moment. He noticed this in the way she clung to his coat as opposed to wrapping her arms around him as any lesser woman would. But he didn't see a woman before him. He saw a child whose little world had come crashing down and whom simply could not take it anymore. She desperately sought comfort from a parent, for someone to hold her and to tell her that it was all going to be alright. But all she had was him, the closest person to her at the moment. Exhaling deeply, he clenched his jaw as he warily brought his arms up around her mid-lower back and held her in a warm embrace. Her sobs seemed to lessen and her shaking had stopped. His collar still in her clutches, she began taking deep, shaky breaths to help calm herself.

And then he stiffened again.

He suddenly became very aware of the warmth that had accumulated between their moist, clothed bodies. He also became aware of the feeling of her breasts as they would rise and fall with each shuddering breath she took. The child who was in his comforting grasp was now a woman in his arms. He could not willingly let this go on any further. Positive that her crying had fully dissipated, he swiftly moved his hands from her back to her shoulders and pried her from him. Gasping at the sudden distance between them, Renée gave him an incredulous look. Her eyes had become red and puffy, but her breathing was even and calm. Retracting his hands like a cobra, he lingered for a brief moment, and then abruptly turned to leave.

"Rorschach, wait!" she cried after him.

Her voice was full of hurt, but he ignored it. Latching onto a ladder above, he leapt up onto the fire escape in one swift motion and was out of sight.

Looking up, she saw that the rain had stopped, leaving the night air cool and moist. Leaning against the wall once more, she hugged herself. His absence left a bitter cold on the front of her torso, a far cry from the pleasent warmth when he held her. Sighing, she stepped out of the alley and walked the rest of the way home. Peeling off her wet clothes, she thought to take a shower, but was far too tired and emotionally drained to stay standing for another moment longer. Lying on the cot in her bra and panties, she tried to fall asleep.

But how could she?

With the pull of a trigger, her brother had gained retribution for the wrong that her father had committed. Ben truly was her hero, and for his presence in her life, she was eternally grateful. But her elation ended there. After doing the right thing, he was gunned down. Her father's wrongdoings went beyond the grave as the gang had decided to 'take care' of her brother as they had tried to do her. Fury and sorrow convinced her that it was far too big of a coincidence for it to have been an accident. Bolting upright, she knew what had to be done. This ring of criminals would pay for the wrongs they had committed, for the lives they had destroyed, and for the justice they incessantly disrupted.

And just as she had...They would pay in blood.

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**A/N: Review! :)**


	5. Live Bait

*Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen in any way, shape or form. Only the plot and OC.

**A/N: I CANNOT even begin to tell you how sorry I am for this extreme delay! Writer's block hit me like a football to the groin. I've been doubled over in this stupor literally since the last chapter update...which was longer ago than I'd like to admit. Again, SO VERY SORRY! Forgive, please? Well, hopefuly this chapter will begin to make up for it. I've actually written up a VERY LENGTHY later chapter and at this point am just trying to connect it in a way that makes sense. Yeah, I'm fuckin' weird :P. It'll all work out. You'll see. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I think I like where it's going. Let me know what you think by, um...REVIEWING PLEASE! :D**

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" fumed a very irritated Rorschach as he slammed his front door shut.

It was around three in the morning and he had decidedly cast aside stealth as he stormed into his apartment, furious with himself at his own weakness. He'd simply left her there, gaining close to nothing out of it. If anything, he had more questions than he did answers. Who was this girl? What information could she possibly possess? Why had he given into her like that? Tossing aside his effects, he moved to the foot of his bed. With a weary groan, he lay down on his back, trying to get his thoughts in order. Boring holes through the translucent material that still sheathed his true face, he stared intently at the ceiling. His apartment slowly faded out of view as his eyes drifted shut and the vigilante succumbed to a disgruntled slumber with a final groan. Human interaction left him a lot more drained than usual.

~ _A week later_ ~

"I want to help you."

"...Hmpf."

"Look, I've been thinking about what you said last time. About my father and my brother, and I...I want to help you in any way I can. I know I can be helpful...I have it all planned out in my head and everything! And don't try to talk me out of it! You can't change my mind."

Her voice was stern and strong, something almost completely alien to her but that she had somehow managed to conjure up. Rorschach thought her current position reminded him of a child: she was so sure of herself, all the while unaware of how incredibly naive and ignorant she sounded. This was all so absurd. He felt a little stupid, having been found by her once again after a week. He had sincerely hoped that their previous encounter would be their last. It seemed, however, that she had other thoughts in mind.

Turning his head away from her, he scoffed derisively. This was a ridiculous waste of time. This woman, no, this GIRL would not sway him with her courage and heart. After having thought long enough, he turned back to face her and advanced on her to further his method of intimidation. He knew that there was a big part of her that was afraid of him and he had never failed to use this to his advantage. She, however, had a minuscule advantage over him. Luckily, she was not aware of it.

"Do you know how childish you sound right now? I do not accept help from civilians. Never have. Never will." He concluded, putting emphasis on the last word.

She certainly was a brave girl...a reckless and foolish one at that. What had gotten it in her head to trot up and down the alleys until she happened to stumble upon him, he would never know. After all that effort, it seemed as if she did not want to leave empty handed. And though her mission was a valiant one, her body language told otherwise. She appeared insecure and exasperated, as if she was in some sort of hurry. As if she had expected him to go with her little plan from the start. It was his guess that she had not thought this far ahead.

"You know, you...you don't know what it's like to be me. You don't know the life that I've lived, and for me to, uh...to come to you like this, I mean isn't...Isn't that worth SOMETHING to you?"

Her words were hesitant, yet impatient. Strong, yet faltering. She would lose confidence half way through her sentence, pause, look down, look back up, and continue with gusto. She certainly was an interesting creature, this Renée.

He chuckled dryly before answering. He would decidedly humour her. "Huhuh...And what exactly did you have planned?"

Opening her mouth, she closed it again with a sigh. She figured that there was no way to tell Rorschach what she had planned without being interrupted or without stuttering or faltering. So, she decided that she would show him. Taking a step back, she shut her eyes and began untying the front of her coat.

He didn't know it at the time, but this would become routine.

She threw the coat back and let it gently slide off her shoulders. As the material fell into a pile at her feet, she opened her eyes again to see if she had garnered the desired reaction.

He immediately regretted asking her. His back went stiff and his fingers began twitching. Taking a step back he shook his head slightly. If her plan was to illicit shock and dread from the antihero, she had succeeded. He tried to find the right words to voice his protest against this crazy and outlandish idea.

"Are you out of your mind? What gave you the idea that I would even consider this?"

He could feel his blood boil and bubble with sudden anger. Confusion arose as well, confusion towards this rising fury. His hands had left his pockets and were now balled into two tight fists. His breathing began to quiver as well. Renée (along with the rest of the city) had always perceived Rorschach as a menacing figure, but never had she felt truly threatened by him until this very moment. It would not be the last time. He looked as though he was ready to beat her senseless, an outcome she had not expected of this rendezvous.

If she didn't feel naked before she certainly did now.

With a pair of scissors, dark pantyhose, and a little creativity, Renée had fashioned herself a black mesh tube dress that wrapped tightly around her from her chest to a third of her thighs. The thin material left little to the imagination with enough translucency to make out her undergarments. The only other item of clothing she wore was a pair of black round toe pumps she had stumbled upon in a trash bin a few days ago. Despite the fact that the heels only added about three inches to her height, she was having quite a bit of trouble keeping her legs steady. She felt incredibly exposed and uncomfortable. Renée's confidence appeared non-existant, the awkward, quivering stance she took being a clear indication of this.

The sight of an infuriated Rorschach advancing on her onlt worsened this.

Her eyes were wide with fear as she began inching backwards. She had forgotten that her coat lay pooled around her feet, the lack of friction causing her to slip on it like a banana peel. She let out a startled yelp as she landed on her bottom. Before being able to register the pain, she was yanked to her feet by two firm hands on her upper arms. She couldn't feel the pain. Only deep confusion as she stood lamely in front of Rorschach. His grip on her arms trembled with anger, but it hadn't faltered or even lightened. Their close proximity left Renée petrified and incredibly disillusioned by her valiant hero. Her stuttering voice came out throaty as she spoke.

"I-I don't understand...You said you wanted-"

"I don't recall mentioning ANYTHING about recruiting a WHORE!" he boomed, his voice trembling with anger and repulsion. She could feel the heat of his gruff tremulous voice on her mouth. Her stomch squirmed and tingled. It was a mix of fear and something else she couldn't quite peg.

For a moment, Rorschach had forgotten who she was and only saw a faceless hooker before him. Blinded by this mentality, he released her so harshly that she fell back to the ground. Renée winced on impact, having fallen on the same spot she had fallen on not a moment ago. She sat there, terrified and humiliated, in the looming shadow of the vigilante. In one swift motion, she seized the coat that lay next to her on the filthy ground and held it to her chest, vainly trying to cover herself. Why had he reacted so violently? Why was he treating her like a piece of meat? Like a child? These and other questions replayed through her mind. And the more she thought about it, the more she started to feel angry as well. He wouldn't even hear her out. He was so set on doing things his way without considering a compromise, even if it benefited him in the long run. Inspecting him once more, she began to notice his demeanour lighten slightly.

And then...a thought occurred.

Slowly and with as much grace as she could muster, Renée got back up on her feet. After brushing off the grime that had collected on her legs and rear and putting her coat back on, she looked back up at Rorschach. Her wide eyes and quivering lip had vanished as she held her newfound silent confidence. She had faith in this new plan of hers, and she would not let herself be intimidated by Rorschach as easily as she once did.

If they were to work together, they had to establish a level of mutual respect.

"Alright...If you feel I shouldn't intervene, then I won't" she said solemnly as she turned to leave. By now, Rorschach's anger had dissipated. However the confusion remained, but he made a point not to show it. Reaching the end of the alley (under the suspicious eye of Rorschach) she took a casual look to her right...then her left...and in one move, removed her coat once again and made her way down the street.

Realization hit him like a brick to the head. With a sudden surge of alarm, he went after her. So that's how she was going to be? So be it. She would just have to learn the hard way.

Renée was only mildly startled when she felt herself being whipped around to face Rorschach once more.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" he muttered tersely, gripping her arm.

"I'm taking your advice and leaving you alone. If you don't want my help, then I'll just have to go ahead with my plan without you." she concluded bluntly.

Right then, a part of Rorschach felt a sudden loss of power. He kept his grip on her arm firm and maintained a strong, unyielding demeanour.

"And what is this plan of yours exactly?" he asked quite brusquely.

He no longer wished to humour her. This time, he really wanted to know. Noticing her submission, he smirked beneath his mask. As she began explaining, he revelled in this small victory.

"Well...it's quite simple actually. See they're after me, right? They know what I look like and where to find me. Your issue is trying to find the right guys to interrogate, so I thought that maybe-"

"Live bait."

"What?"

"You thought you'd lure them in while I watch from afar, and then strike when they get close enough. When they're taken care of, I press them for information, get what I need, and take them down for good...Sound about right?"

"...Just about, yeah."

With a dry chuckle he released her and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Huh...Probably the most stupid and reckless idea I've ever heard."

Before giving her the chance to get riled up and offended, he turned on his heel and began walking down the opposite end of the street.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she called after him, slight panic etched in her tone.

She didn't think he'd actually leave her! The entire time, her confidence had relied on the notion that Rorschach wouldn't let anything happen to her. She knew it went against his duties as a hero, as well as reasons that they were both unaware of at the time.

Stopping abruptly, he turned his head slightly to acknowledge her concern.

"Stay alert. Stick to the alleys and don't wander into the main streets. I'll be close by." And with that, he adjusted his collar, pocketed his gloved hands, and made his way down the street and around the corner. Renée stood there, frozen in her spot for the better portion of a minute.

It...Worked!

Her elation didn't last long as she immediately caught the tell tale sounds of hoods in the area. Falling back against the brick wall, she took in a few deep breaths. This was it. How was she to mentally prepare herself to be thrown into a proverbial lion's den like a hunk of raw meat? She decidedly cast aside all rational thought and strode down the street until she reached the mouth of the alley where the sound was coming from.

Her heels clacked with every step she took as she claimed the opportunity to practise walking in them. However she didn't have much time to do so as it had just registered that the only sound being made was coming from her own shoes. The predator was on the prowl. Stopping dead in her tracks, she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. This was without a doubt the single most terrifying feeling she had felt in a long while. Taking a deep, shaky gulp, she inched her way on trembling legs into the alley like a lamb before the slaughter.

What if he didn't show up in time?

What if he forgot about her?

What if this was all a trap to get rid of her?

This was a stupid idea. He was right. How could she have been so foolish? She would be raped and left for dead in a matter of minutes and she had gladly volunteered to do it! Before she had the chance to turn back around, she caught the sight of several thugs emerging from the shadows. These weren't the apish buffoons that had stumbled upon her before. This group was a higher class of criminal. They had been waiting for her and only her. Quietly...and patiently.

Panic struck.

Then fear.

Then came the dread.

Not a word was spoken. And suddenly, everything went black...

She was jolted awake by a callous hand wrapping around her tiny neck that lifted her to an upright sitting position. Before her knelt a largely built man in a brown military coat. Beneath it he wore a wife beater that hid none of his muscular build. His olive complexion and five o'clock shadow complemented this, as well as a few strands of dark hair that fell over his forehead. His dark shades hid his eyes and the scar that ran down his left eyebrow to his cheekbone. Several shady figures stood around him. She could only make out their silhouettes through the dark shadows and low fog that hovered around their feet.

"This is definitely the one" he began in a gruff tone. Without breaking eye contact, he removed his glasses to reveal a pair of big, unblinking brown eyes framed by two thick eyebrows. And without skipping a beat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a loaded pistol.

"Once she's out, she's all yours to play with" he continued smoothly as he slowly brought the gun to the side of her head. As her lungs filled with air to let out a scream, a booming thud rang through the air from behind the gun-wielding man. Keeping his grip on her neck, he turned around and noticed one of his lackeys missing. With a frown, he let go of her and stood up.

"Keep an eye on her. Don't let her get away."

The rest of them turned to her simultaneously, startling her. She regretted leaving her coat behind. As the apparent leader approached the site where the sound had come from, he was mildly shocked to find the missing man, splayed on a pile of garbage with a cracked cinder block indenting the area where his face once was. The object fell with such speed that it had killed him instantly, leaving flecks of bloody skull and brain matter scattered haphazardly around the corpse. The leader turned around in time to see another one of his henchmen pulled violently into a dark shadow. Screams of pain followed the deadly blows dealt by this mystery figure. After a few moments, the thug was thrown back into the light, a bloody, twitching mass of what he once was. The four remaining hoods put up their guard and all immediately whipped out a switchblade.

Renée had noticed that the attention had turned away from her. She slowly got on all fours and began inching her way down the alley...until she heard a shot ring through the air. She whipped her head around to find the leader with his gun pointed at her. "Don't move" he gruffly muttered. Renée remained frozen in place, not daring to move an inch. Her head dropped between her arms as she stared at the ground, trying to forget the world that existed beyond her line of vision.

Meanwhile, the leader's arm shot up and he began shooting into the shadow where the intruder supposedly was. Then it occurred to him. He stopped shooting. That's when he noticed that yet another member had gone missing. But he soon re-emerged, staggering out from the shadow and riddled with bullet holes all across his chest and stomach. He collapsed in a heap next to his now dead companion. Three down. Three to go.

The thud of a falling body jolted Renée out of her trance and she looked up slowly to notice another dead gang member. Her knees felt raw and stung from supporting herself on the rough and gravelly ground. She slowly eased herself onto the side of her thigh, her hands still rigidly supporting her. She looked about the faces of the remaining men. The three lackeys stood on bent, shaky knees, eyes darting in and out of shadowy areas to catch sight of the trespasser. Suddenly, Renée felt a shadow looming directly above her. She turned her head around and slowly looked up to see the leader standing directly behind her. In one swift move, she was yanked to her feet and held tightly against the threatening man. She struggled briefly against his might, but it was useless. Looking up, she got a good look at him. He was huge. Standing at a solid, towering six feet, she was a dwarf compared to this hulking mass. She decided that she would have found him attractive had he not been trying to abduct her. She couldn't help but notice his muscles flexing to hold her still against him. She stopped completely when the man shoved the gun to her temple.

"Come into the light...Or I'll kill her"

He remained as calm and collected from the moment she saw him. She felt her heart pounding outside of her chest. Her breathing became shallow and irregularly paced as the seconds went by. She was waiting for something, for anything to happen. And then it came.

"Go ahead...shoot her."

At first, she was relieved to hear Rorschach's voice. But once his words had registered, she nearly lost her balance completely. She wanted to scream "NO!" but all she could make were faint squeaks and moans of protest as tears welled up in her eyes. How could he gamble with her life like this? She was shaken from her hysteria at the sight of Rorschach emerging from the shadows and grabbing the closest thug he could reach for, all within a second. The ensnared man's fist flew towards Rorschach, until he expertly caught it with his free hand. Jerking him downwards, Rorschach sent a swift knee to his chin, severing the man's jaw and dropping him on all fours as he groaned in misery. The two remaining thugs both charged for the vigilante. And had both their knife-wielding wrists caught, twisted, and were stabbed in the gut by their own weapons. They dropped immediately to the ground, writhing in pain and clutching their bloody wounds. They were all subdued.

All but one.

Rorschach looked up slowly and met the leader's gaze. The man simply stood there, gun still pointed at Renée and still keeping her in his clutches. Rorschach slowly made his way towards them, panting slightly from the moderate fight he had just put up. Stopping three feet away, Rorschach looked at Renée, then up at the man, then Renée, then him once more.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Shoot her."

"NO!" Renée cried helplessly, shutting her eyes and vainly tucking her head into the crook of the assailant's arm. Almost simultaneously in tune with her cry, he pulled the trigger...

And pulled it again...

And again...

And again...

Click. Click. Click.

This was the only sound that resonated through the air. And before she had time to register the fact that she was still alive, Renée was violently shoved into Rorschach, giving the assailant the break he needed to make a run for it. Rorschach swiftly caught the ungracefully thrown girl, not making so much as an attempt to go after the runner. He simply stood there, holding her up and lightly chuckling.

"Huh... Had used all his bullets before grabbing you...Good to know I was right."

Immediately after hearing this, she pulled away from him, looking flustered and more frustrated than she had ever been. As she opened her mouth to say something, Rorschach suddenly put a hand over it. Whipping around, he stormed towards one of the subdued men, grabbed him roughly by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. In a low, gruff mutter, he began prodding the thug.

"Do you know who I am?"

He hastily nodded.

"Do you know what I can do to you if you don't tell me what I need to know?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Would you like to find out?"

He hastily shook his head.

Renée decidedly turned around, not caring to watch Rorschach's torture methods. Hugging herself, she began casually pacing up and down the alley. At one point, she stood at the foot of it, looking out onto the main street. Peering down another alley that sat across from the one she stood in, she could have sworn that she saw a figure at the end of it. Leaning forward a little, she squinted to make out the odd shape. It began walking forward until it was bathed in a far off street light. And she saw him. It was the leader that had made a run for it. Renée's eyes almost immediately widened as she stumbled backwards a little into the alley.

"Rorschach...I-it's-"

"-time to go!"

Renée's wrist had been seized by the vigilante as he began speeding down the street. With a yelp, she barely managed to keep in tow. Apparently, one of the gang members had been wielding a loaded gun the entire time and had chosen to whip it out before Rorschach had a chance to execute his "method of intimidation".

Shots rang through the air as Rorschach and Renée ducked into an alley and behind a dumpster to throw off their pursuer. Renée had long since lost both her heels and sat tightly nestled between a dripping dumpster and a superhero. Rorschach kept a firm hand over her mouth and another around her torso to take up as little room as possible. It had become almost completely silent. All Renée could hear was their mismatched, laboured breathing as they strained to listen for any signs of the gang member.

There she sat, practically naked, in the arms of her childhood hero. In any other situation, this would be a dream come true. But now wasn't the time or the place to be dwelling on those thoughts. Although, she figured, she desperately needed a distraction to help her forget the traumatizing ordeal that she had just been through not a moment ago.

So she thought about it...

And thought about it...

And thought about it some more, until she came to a singular conclusion:

She was deeply infatuated with Rorschach.

Well all things considered, she figured, it couldn't be anything else. She had never really felt this way about someone before. And who better than the man she had idolized since she was a child? Before that thought could be concluded, she was swiftly being helped onto her feet. The head rush was rather unpleasant, as was the feeling of being barefoot and without a coat. Fully realizing her lack of clothing, Renée suddenly felt ashamed, gripping her arms and pulling at the hemline of her "dress". She tried to distract from it by saying something.

"So...how was the mission? Success or fail?"

She had made her sudden discomfort loud and clear to the antihero. A fact he was somewhat grateful for. It showed him that she was not, nor would she ever be, accustomed to wearing that manner of..."attire"...at any time. He did admire her bravery for going through with her plan, though he drew the conclusion afterwards that, more often than not, she thought with her heart, not her head. Again, an interesting creature this girl.

"On the whole, a fail. However managed to get a location from one of them before the gun was pulled."

"So, what does this mean? Are we doing this again?"

He thought for a moment. He had surprisingly overlooked that notion.

"...Perhaps. Will let you know if your assistance is needed again. Hmm...Be seeing you."

And with that, Rorschach turned around and left. Of course he wouldn't do this without knowing that she lived merely three blocks from where they stood. After standing there for a moment, watching him walk away into the night, Renée got up from against the wall and made her way home.

This would become routine. Every few nights or so, Renée would be summoned by Rorschach for her assistance. He'd knock on her door six times, head down to their meeting spot, and wait until she arrived. The hooker outfit had been decidedly forgotten, both of them feeling that it was unnecessary to attract the gangsters. And after every mission, a new clue would be found that put Rorschach one step closer to nabbing the gang for good. Some days went smoothly. Other times proved to be disastrous. Overall, luck was on their side and each mission was a success in some way.

Until one particularly stormy night on September 30th, 1985.

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**A/N: Now I know what you're thinking, and don't worry! I will let you know ahead of time whether or not I plan on taking forever again, which I most likely will not! It's all starting to come together so I think it's safe to say that the Writer's block is gonskie...For now! And you know what always helps with that? REVIEWS!!! :D**


	6. Update!

Been a while, hasn't it? I'm afraid this isn't a chapter update. Just my sorry excuse as to WHY I haven't been updating. A few months ago my computer crashed, and well being the mouth-breathing knuckle dragger that I am, I hadn't taken the liberty of saving my files on a stick. Long story short, the stories gone. All of it. BUT THERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS. I bought a brand spankin' new laptop this morning! Hurrah! Now, I'll try my best to remember what I had already written from my old comp. BUT I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP! I REFUSE! Just sit tight a little while longer! I want to thank everyone for being ever so patient and not giving up on this! I love you all! :D

-Love, JackieBlue


	7. RorschachVSWalter: Rorschach Triumphant

***Pathetic excuse for an Author's Note: I'm pretty sure that there's no character limit in chapter submissions, but I'm pretty sure I'd exceed it, if it did exist, if I even began to write how TERRIBLY AND TRULY SORRY I AM! I won't lie. I kinda sorta…completely forgot about this story I KNOW I KNOW I SUCK! But one random day I just pulled it up and…WORDS just started spewing out of my fingers! It was magical, guys. Anyhow, here it is. The LONG awaited chapter update. I had to re-read the story at least a dozen times just to get my groove back. I know how easy it is to get sloppy and lose the momentum of the story after so long, but I think this chapter fits in quite nicely (Also, for all intents and purposes, let's just say that cassette tapes fully exist in this universe. It'll make sense I swear!). BUT WHO GIVES A CRAP ABOUT WHAT I THINK! Even I don't, soooo lemme know what YOU think by um, you know…**

**REVIEWING! :D**

**P.S. Again, I sorry. Love you guys.**

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Rorschach's head tilted skyward. The telltale rumble just before a vicious downpour had caught his attention. He sighed wearily. He didn't mind the rain in the slightest. He was positive  
Renee didn't mind it either. The rain did however remind him of a certain rainy encounter he had had with the girl. Woman. Child.

"Hmm…" he murmured dejectedly to himself.

She was always something different to him, always ambiguous and ever changing. A big part of him maintained a nagging feeling of discomfort and unease over this odd friendship of theirs. He had never gone out of his way to entangle himself in the affairs and problems of other people's lives. He already knew more about this girl than he knew about Dreiberg. The thought alone made him almost physically uneasy.

As the first few drops of rain began to fall from the sky, he relaxed his shoulders a little. He hadn't realized that he had tensed his muscles until a slight, dull pang pinched at his neck. But then he would always get a little anxious before their…outings. Though on the whole this pursuit that they had undertaken had proven to be successful, there were some nights that were…well…referring to them as "close calls" would be an understatement. And those days truly proved how strong an individual she really was. There were some days that were downright messy, and yet she was always prepared to jump ship if the situation went south. It was a cunning she possessed that was almost innate.

As he stood and waited for her still, he recalled one particular night wherein he found himself unarmed and frozen under the gaze of a particularly tenacious gun-wielding hoodlum. He couldn't recall exactly how the situation had gone awry, but he knew then that making a move for the gun was suicide. And just when he began to wonder if he had shown up too late and Renee had been killed, he heard a light rustling behind the gang member. Staring past him a little, he barely made out the barrel of another gun in the shadows, shaking and unsteady. As the form slowly stepped further into the light, he could only stand and play witness to a small, trembling hand holding the gun. Following the hand, he made out an arm, being held up by another little hand to still its shaking.

And out stepped his ward.

Though she donned the body of a frightened, young girl, her emerald eyes flared with a bravery and determination beyond her years. And that's all it took for her to pull the trigger. The thug was barely able to register the pain in his lower spine until he dropped like a stone. The sound of 200 pounds of fat and failure hitting the pavement synched melodically with the clang of the gun as it dropped out of Renee's uneasy grip. She hadn't quite whipped it down the alley and broken down as he had expected her to. No, this was one of those days when she truly astounded him. As her arm lowered after taking the shot, her fingers just went limp. The gun slipped slowly out of her grasp as her first victim buckled under his own weight. The two things fell simultaneously. Rorschach watched her carefully, studying her like a specimen under a microscope, catching her every nuance, her every twitch. He watched her gaze wander from the gun she had dropped, to the pile of twitching garbage she had just plugged, and finally to his face. Their gaze would hardly meet as all she could see were the languid, free-forming blots of ink across his smoothed-over features. But there were times he'd swear she could see right through it. This was one of those times.

She looked as though she was looking down a winding road that wound so far into the distance that she couldn't make out the end of it. And that was the problem. She sought desperately just to catch a glimpse of what awaited her at the end…But there was always something in the way.

"Let's go", she simply said.

They hadn't said a word until they reached the mouth of the alley. It was Renee who broke the silence.

"Is he dead?"

"No. Will most likely die of blood loss. Paralyzed from the hip down. He won't be getting help from anybody."

Rorschach finally concluded upon arrival at the meeting spot. Renee had already begun making her way home, when she stopped suddenly in her tracks. Turning her head slightly, she spoke, her voice softer.

"So…he'll suffer."

"All through the night. If he's lucky, he'll be dead my morning."

Carefully reassessing his words, she slowly turned around to face him. Rorschach braced himself for hysterical sobbing. But it never came. Instead she looked down at her hands. She was lightly wringing them, observing her own movements. After several seconds, she turned around and began making her way back home, but not without getting a final word in.

"Good."

Between his reminiscence and tuning back into reality, he had come to realize something. Never had anyone amazed him quite like Renee. He would even go so far as to admit that he…admired her. And that's what complicated things. He was always at odds with himself, always chastising one part of himself for being fond of her, and then having that part of him at odds with the part of him that resented her. But…why resentment? What had she done to cause him such grief and anxiety? What had she done to him that caused him to lay awake every night, thinking about certain things that he shouldn't be thinking, feeling certain things he had never felt (and never wanted to feel for that matter). The metal pipes through his apartment walls would clang and moan whenever someone would take a shower. And it was that harsh commotion that triggered them. His mind would follow the pipes down until they reached the shower head. Down the water would fall, drenching a soft, light-tan shoulder. And then, a small, feminine hand would pass over the shoulder, fingers tracing across the collar bone until they reached the base of a tiny neck. And down the hand would travel, lower, and lower, and lower yet until…

Rorschach exhaled sharply while fisting his hands deeper into his pockets. He found sweet distraction in the heavy rain that began to fall. But before he knew it, his thoughts fell to her once more.

Where the hell was she?

He had been waiting at the spot for almost twenty minutes and there was no sign of Renee. He considered the possibility that she just wasn't home. But considering the late hour as well as the weather conditions, he didn't think that was the case. Soon after considering, then disclaiming, several other possibilities, he found himself making his way back to her dwelling.

Reaching the faded front door, he raised his fist to knock once more. His arm froze when he looked down at the door knob. Being in the hurry that he was in, he hadn't paid much attention to the state of the door the first time around. Looking intently at the lock, he noticed a path of cracked wood. At the drop of a pin, he felt his heartbeat pick up. Outwardly though, he was calm. Opening his fist, he gingerly grasped the doorknob and in one swift motion, twisted it and pushed the door open. His stomach lurched as the portion of the door that carried the lock came flying off.

Someone had clearly broken in, and upon leaving, carefully put it back together, giving the appearance that nothing had happened.

Eyeing the floor, he noticed a fine layer of dust that had accumulated on the old, hardwood flooring. His head tilted slightly at the one damning clue he needed. A few sets of prints led a few feet down the hall and up the stairs. The same prints repeated, only they were going back out the door. But they were different. They shuffled through the dust erratically before finally ending at the front door. Remaining calm in his movements, he slowly stepped inside, each step giving way to a haunting creak. Halfway up the stairs, Rorschach stopped, following the prints with his eyes until they led him to a room. His eyes never leaving the end of the prints, he sprinted the rest of the way up and walked right up to the door where the prints ended. There appeared to have been a particularly eventful scuffle where he stood. Any poise or tranquility he held shattered into oblivion upon opening the door.

Rorschach went completely rigid at the sight before him. The room wasn't very big and didn't have much in it, but it didn't matter. The room itself wasn't important. It was what caught his eye at the window sill. All that was left behind was some torn fabric from her shirt and a small puddle of blood.

And he snapped.

With a feral cry, he made a break for the closest object to him. His hands flew to a nearby chair and he whipped it across the small room with a grunt. It cracked and shattered on impact. He tried to calm himself, but it was useless. It only served to infuriate him even more. The only sound that could be heard was his quivering, ragged breathing as he stood on bent knees amidst the wreckage he had created. His head lowered slowly. How could he be so stupid? How could he let this go as far as it had? Nothing was worth putting her at risk of being hurt. Rorschach clasped the side of his head with both hands at that final thought. He wanted to think that putting any civilian in danger was inexcusable.

But he'd be lying if he thought that.

And then…A deep, personal truth hit him with such force that he couldn't contain the savage cry that escaped from his core before charging at the wall and punching a hole the size of a melon right through it. Pulling his hand out slowly, he slumped against the wall, panting slightly. Because he realized that it went beyond making sure she was alive. He wanted to protect her…He wanted no one to lay a finger on her, no one to touch her. No one but him. This was his conflicted psyche at its worst. One part of him was angry with the other for allowing himself to be swayed into working with a civilian. Another part of him was angry for realizing that he…deeply and truly cared for Renee. And that's when things became incredibly complicated. Was it a paternal and protective care, or did it go…beyond that. As he slumped further and further down the wall, he could feel the slight vibration of clanging pipes through the surface. And as water flooded through the rusted, metal tubes, so did a torrent of deeply disturbing thoughts. That, coupled with his anger, did not help.

_Through the sound of the running shower, he could barely make out harsh and heavy breathing. It assaulted his ears. It cried out. It begged. It wanted more. And he obliged. But he didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't dare allow his mind to grasp what his body was doing. What IT wanted. What IT begged for. But it did register that the breathing was not his. He felt pure want drip hotly down the back of his neck like venom. A pointed weight pierced his shoulder. Something clung to him for dear life. And it was at his mercy, pinned against the wall, willfully subjective to whatever he desired. Then, motions registered. An unsteady, wild motion at the hip. They were both doing it. And one couldn't do it without the other. He felt enveloped. He felt empowered. He wanted to destroy her. His vision was filled with painful, hazy blots. His eyes shot open. His mind, suddenly present. Five digits snaked slowly, but fiercely through his hair. And the hot poison that once dripped down his neck, his back, vanished. And in its place, a voice. Though small and defeated, like a broken violin, it boomed horribly in his ear._

_"I…I love you, daddy"_

With a viper's speed, he clasped the sides of his head. The storm outside was swelling as lightening split the sky and illuminated the small room. Every dark, ugly crevice shone for a split second, then receded into the shadows once more. Rorschach's hands shot down and his head fell back against the wall. He let the sound of the thunderstorm fill his mind, let it push out any lingering thoughts. His breathing turned shallow as he gritted his teeth, trying his hardest to ignore the sudden discomfort in his pants.

Rorschach was sure his mind couldn't take much more of this. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep, calming breaths. And as he slowly stood up, he felt his anger dissipate considerably. But upon opening his eyes, he was forced to face the reality of the situation. All emotional ordeals aside, he had a kidnapped civilian on his hands. Suddenly, Walter's thoughts began to fade. He felt a part of him resurface. A part of him that had been stifled for some time now. And then…There was only Rorschach.

He made quick work of the apartment. Swiftly making his way to the window sill, he inspected the blood on the floor. His intuition…The innate drive that allowed Rorschach to take control was back. He wasted no time on self-appraisal.

By the looks of it, the blood was significantly coagulated. With a velveteen touch, he dragged a finger through the gooey fluid. He watched intently as the trail languidly smoothed out.

"Hmm…" the vigilante mused. He deduced that the blood was left approximately eighteen hours ago. Though highly viscous, it still retained some of its liquid state. Storing away the fact, he moved on to the torn fabric. Grabbing it, his gloved fingers smoothed out the creases and trailed the rim of the material. He scoffed derisively. His first assumption was that a scuffle was the cause of the torn shirt. But after a second, more intent glance, he noticed how perfectly and precisely the material had been torn. He also noticed how much give it still had, meaning that it was slowly and deliberately torn by hand and purposely left there. Dropping it, he stood up quickly, ignoring the sudden head rush, and made his way to the door. His heart beat picked up slightly as he resumed the position he was in when he first walked into the apartment. From this vantage point, he scanned the room for anything he might have missed. His gaze panned…then stopped abruptly. He felt his heart pound once more. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it earlier.

In the small kitchen area, sitting neatly in the sink was a video cassette. His glare never leaving the black rectangle, he made his way to it. Picking it up, Rorschach turned it around between his hands as if he had never seen anything like it. The object suddenly seemed foreign to him. His head began swimming, but he pushed it back and resumed the motion. The tape bore nothing but a label that read "B.C.A.".

With a trembling sigh, a deep pang swelled in his head once more. A long night lay ahead, this much he knew. Though he felt that he'd be confronted by things he couldn't even fathom. This thing was bigger than him, and though he wasn't too sure what he was dealing with anymore, he knew that time was a factor. And that he'd need all the help he could get. Another visit to Dreiberg was in order.

And with a last glance at the apartment, he sheathed the tape into his vest pocket and made for the window. He was met by a torrential storm. A thunderous crash of lightening illuminated the city. _His_ city. A sudden lump grew in his throat, forcing him to swallow deeply. Tonight was a test of all that he was. It would end tonight.

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;)


	8. The Chase

**A/N: At this point, you know my usual sorry spiel for the delay so I'll skip it. Well here it is folks! The next chapter. 'Bout freakin' time, huh...I'll decidedly be skipping the promise of a speedy update as well. Shorry guys, you I'm a tardy little shmuck. ;)  
I WILL tell you, however, that I've got a decent chunk of the next chapter typed up. That doesn't mean it'll be up anytime soon though so please please PLIZ don't get your hopes up! I just don't want y'all to get fed up for waiting. But who knows? I just might surprise you. KAY DONE NOW READ! :D**

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Upon regaining consciousness, Renee took a hoarse, life-drawing breath as her eye lids fought to open wider than they had initially shot open. Her lungs ached for fresh air.

She saw nothing.

A thick layer of woolen material enveloped her, trapping her in a bubble of heat and moisture. Her skin felt raw, itchy, and had accumulated a thin layer of salty sweat. She felt a sharp sting that pierced the throbbing mess of a wound she couldn't see. Dry blood and sweat melded and made love under the sheath, trapping a putrid scent that made Renee taste her own bile. She wanted to scream, but her throat was raw, burning with stomach acid and unpleasantly coated with a copper-like taste. She moved her hips around, using the strength she had already spent to figure a way, at the very least, out of the discomfort of the fabric that covered her. Bits of hair clung to her face and neck, but it didn't matter in the least. Renee rocked herself until she sat upright, slouching due to her bound limbs. Her eyes searched frantically, her breathing beginning to rumble and quiver in her throat repulsively, for a break in the fabric. Her body tumbled. It rolled, fell over and got back up many times as she searched relentlessly.

There!

Her head vaulted through an opening in the gas chamber almost of its own accord. Her eyes clamped shut, she began drawing sweet, cool breath. The air that hit her skin melded with the sweat and irritation, soothing it and sending a chill all throughout her body. She didn't dare open her eyes and possibly ruin this rare moment of indulgence. Indulgence in oxygen…in a moment's peace.

It had recently become all too apparent that life's necessities became luxuries from the moment Renee had become acquainted with Rorschach. Her life stood at the edge of a blade. It started out as mere ignorance of the fact, but eventually she became fully aware of how much danger she had gotten herself into.

And she didn't care.

Some nights, upon hearing the telltale banging against her door, the signal that the vigilante was in need of her services, she would simply stop whatever she was doing and become lost in the sound of her own racing heartbeat. Her palms would shake and begin to go clammy. Sometimes she had to sit down and breathe deeply, trying her hardest to shake the insurmountable clawing fear in her chest. But she always showed up. No matter how bad the anxiety got, she never abandoned the endeavor. She figured if she had the gall to even suggest such a foolhardy plan, she had no choice but to follow through. And on her walks to the meeting place, she truly felt that the choice was no longer hers. She would think long and hard about stopping in her tracks and running back home and never seeing Rorschach or risking her life ever again. But these became more and more fleeting with every meet up.

Renee struggled against the several layers of electrical tape that bound her hands behind her back. The sound of rustling coupled with the hoarse, throaty whine she produced in the struggle sounded like awful discord in her ears. Her eyes still shut, she registered the soft, bouncy surface on which she had been placed. It creaked and groaned along with her light thrashing. A light snap caused her to gasp as the tape finally began to tear. Getting on her knees, she bent her torso over and rested her face against what was apparently a bed and began, with what little energy she had, trying to pass her bound wrists over her bottom and down her legs so that she could undo the rest with her mouth. Her labored breathing grew more and more hoarse as it picked up pace. Muscles began cramping due to the awkward pose, but finally and after much exertion, Renee had finally brought her hands under and over her legs to her front. But she couldn't continue. With a great, exasperated groan, she fell to her side on the bed, eyes still closed, and lay there, panting softly and still bound. Her mouth was dry as she sucked lightly on her lower lip, then her upper. Her throat felt dry, possibly from lack of hydration or from lack of speaking for so long. Though she wasn't very vocal in her day to day life, some of her evenings spent with Rorschach made up for such slow-paced days.

But even then, conversation was very limited.

Often times, the two wouldn't exchange so much as a greeting. They would meet, separate into their planned courses, and try their hardest to survive the night. She learned after a while not to rely solely on her partner when the situation became too high risk. She implemented this for a number of reasons: one was the obvious; to shake the "willing damsel-in-distress" front. The title came with it an unshakable feeling of dependence, helplessness and self-loathing. And, she supposed, the other was just to let Rorschach know that she was, and would always be, more than he ever expected her to be. Being the only truly significant being in her life, she had so much to prove to him. It became more so because with each passing day, she understood the vigilante a little more. More often than not, such things were difficult to grasp and to empathize with.

He never talked about himself.

And quite frankly, she never bothered asking, remembering how little he cared for small talk. The only talking he would partake in was talk of criminal affairs, crime fighting, and his casual piece on what he thought of the current situation, whatever it may be. But it often involved seedy, unsavory types. She found it odd. Though in her heart she would disagree with almost everything he had to say, she couldn't find the right words to voice her protest. His words were bitter and morbid, but his tone didn't carry a hint of venom in it. It was more of a disenchanted understanding of how people thought, and why they did what they did.

One such incident always stayed with her:

"_You know Rorschach…not every criminal deserves to die."_

"_Huh…and what makes you say that?"_

"_Well…there are a lot of things to consider, like…what sort of home they come from and…their experiences as a child, an adolescent, or…"_

"_Really. Let me paint a picture for you then. Imagine a young boy, raised without a father by a mother who, by so-called 'necessity', is a whore..."_

_He practically spat that last word. _

"…_He receives little to no attention beyond ridicule from anyone, save for merciless beatings by a mother who resents his very existence. Out of curiosity, I have to ask…Would a criminal with a background similar to that be considered an 'exception' in your eyes?"_

_She didn't know what to say. What was he getting at? What was he trying to tell her? If it weren't for her insurmountable curiosity, she would have done the smart thing and not pressed the matter. But she did._

"_I mean, I guess so. It should certainly be considered when dealing with-"_

"_And what makes you say that? Is it an unfounded, innate moral sensibility…Or do you think like the others? You feel as though it's the 'right way' to feel because you are compelled by a flock-like sensibility akin to the general populace? A sheep."_

Her reluctance to grasp and agree with his views was similar to a child's outrage towards an adult that disclaimed the existence of Santa Clause. She had believed in something for so long, that for someone to blatantly tell her that it was all a lie was difficult to accept. To say the least. After a while, all she could do was listen to him and try to take it all in one ear, and out another. Sometimes, during those seemingly eternal sleepless nights, she would try to think of how it must feel like to live by the words that he spoke, to carry out his life to those words, and to never question them. Another reason why she decidedly remained unvocal to his ideology was, she figured, his unwavering sense of moral absolution. She was quite familiar with the term, but didn't think she had ever met anyone who she could honestly say lived by it. Those who believed the death sentence to be wrong for example, no matter how severe the situation, would later demand the head of a murderer who had killed a loved one. These people could not live by an unchanging moral code. There were too many exceptions, or an inconsistent and purely biased knowledge on the issue, or a lack of emotional attention, the latter of which, once acquired, would completely invert one's code of ethics. She knew for a fact that Rorschach was all but devoid of emotion, but such emotions were never thrown into the equation for him to question his own actions. He was never the type to provide exception for any individual he held higher on an emotional level.

…That she was aware of.

Once her breathing had evened out, she sat on her calves and began gnawing at the tape, eyes still closed. A minute or so of relentless biting and pulling, her wrists were finally free. She gingerly rubbed them as the skin around them had grown red and irritated. But she refused to open her eyes. She began to wring her hands to get blood circulating through them once more, then frantically moving the hair out of her face and fanning fervently. She was trying desperately to distract herself from the fact that she had no idea where she was.

The sudden voice nearly made her jump to the ceiling.

"You gonna open your eyes yet or what?" the unknown being drawled through a dark chuckle.

Her hands shot down from her head to the bed, hard enough to get it creaking. She panted unevenly through gritted teeth as she slowly turned her head in the direction of the voice. If anything, she was now more adamant about keeping her eyes shut. She also couldn't shake the feeling that this voice sounded eerily familiar.

"Huh…A lot more stubborn than I remember."

Footsteps now accompanied the voice as it drew nearer and nearer. Renee turned her head back around, bracing herself for whatever came.

"Hey, now. No need to tense up. Lemme get a good look atcha…"

A sudden weight dropped onto the bed next to her, sending her stumbling back a little. But she remained rigid. Her breath hitched up once she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax, now. Just turn around and let me get a look at that pretty little face of yours."

But she remained stoic. The lack of reaction she received led her to believe that he had given up and that he was about to leave. Her shoulders dropped a little as she relaxed herself.

"No?...Alright then…"

Renee couldn't react quickly enough to the swift palm that clamped down onto her head, fisted her hair, and jerked her face violently back. Her body tumbled back clumsily into whoever this was.

"That's a good girl."

His tone remained eerily steady, in spite of how much force he was exerting. The pain in her scalp only prompted Renee to shut her eyes even tighter, causing painful blots to explode across the back of her eyelids. She gritted her teeth as quivering breath drew in and out through them. She could feel warm, steady breathing across her cheek. Their faces were so close she could practically smell him, though she would never admit that it was a welcome change from blood, sweat and grime.

"Now listen here, little darlin'. I'll let go of your pretty little curls if you open your eyes, alright?"

He hadn't expected an answer, but as he slowly loosened his grip, Renee visibly relaxed. Now, she wasn't sure exactly what prompted her next move. But she found herself locked in grave regret once she made it.

Without warning, Renee rolled backwards, tumbling off the bed onto an unwelcoming slab of concrete and landing on her shoulder. Ignoring the pain with her eyes now open, she stumbled hurriedly down to the other end of the room, where she spotted a door. Her suddenly illuminated vision caused her some pain, but she ignored it. It was very difficult, however, to ignore the feeling of a strong hand snatching her ankle, causing her to be yanked back mid air and onto the solid, grey floor. She landed with a thud, winded on impact. Without a word from the man, she was slowly dragged back. Silent tears impeded her vision as the door shrank smaller and smaller.

Renee was swiftly grabbed by the shoulders, hoisted up above the ground, and dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Instead of scrambling up for another escape attempt, she lay there on her back, completely motionless. His method of silent force was not only intimidating…it was downright frightening. She took this time to finally get a good look at her surroundings.

It was a small, simple room. The walls were lined with white wallpaper, covered in some questionable dark red stains, some fresher than others. The ceilings were covered with pink insulating foam, all of which was packed in plastic. A single, flickering light bulb hung from a string that swung eerily like a metronome. Large, rusted metal pipes snaked through the walls as if they were simply passing through on their way to another room. Some dripped in tune to the swinging of the bulb, and she briefly wondered where the pipes led to exactly. She was promptly brought back to reality as a hand began stroking her face.

"A lot more headstrong than I remember too…"

Renee's eyes widened as the man now loomed over her, his form silhouetted by the flickering light. She had encountered him before.

"…not to mention…You've become quite the looker. Maybe a little big in the hips and thighs, but-"

"It's you…"

At the sound of her weak, cracking voice, the man smirked darkly. His hand began to wander further down, away from her face, and began absent-mindedly stroking her neck and collar bone. His stare left her eyes and fell on the areas his hand was caressing. He took a deep breath and released it before continuing.

"You know…when I saw you…All those nights ago, I tell ya...It was tough to keep my cool."

His voice came out in a low drawl, sounding almost a little inebriated. Renee swallowed deeply as his hands continued to trace over her neck and shoulder. She eyed it hesitantly. That same hand that firmly held a gun to her temple only a short time ago. He would lean in close to her neck every so often, breathing in and out against the sensitive flesh. She truly couldn't see a way out of this. She didn't even know how much time had passed. But what pressed her even more deeply was that she truly didn't know if she would ever see Rorschach again. He would probably go looking for her…a little. But she knew that there was so much wrong in the city. So many injustices to be rectified. So much retribution to be dealt out. And in all the wrong that he had to deal with…she was only a drop of water in a storm-plagued sea of vice.

And through the storm came a sudden crack of thunder.

Renee tuned back into reality, only to feel a trembling weight crushing her upper arms. And as her eyes cast upwards dejectedly, they were met by those same dark eyes. But they were different than before. The dim lighting against him gave the man a more ominous air. She struggled briefly, but once she truly felt the strength of the leader's hands, she gave in. Though his arms trembled while grasping her, she could tell it wasn't out of exertion. He appeared to be working himself into frenzy. Her heart racing profusely, she closed her eyes as frantic and irregularly paced breathing passed through her parted lips. The brown military coat he once wore came with it a sense of calm and poise. Shedding one meant the other was absent as well. The sight of his broad chest heaving through his wife beater was horrifying. Her head lolled to the side, not wanting to face the mass on top of her.

"What…do you want from me?" she whispered thickly and shakily through gritted teeth.

Her tone carried a hint of anger which did not go unnoticed by the man. With a low, dark chuckle, his eyes continued to rake up and down her body as he answered.

"Hmm…I don't think you're in a position to be making any demands. That's quite a mouth you've got there…"

He trailed off, eyes suddenly fixated on her lips. His breathing began to quiver and turn shallow. The sound of a frightened whimper in his ears caused his grip on her arms to tighten and loosen simultaneously. Finally, he dropped his head as if in defeat, letting his face rest in the crook of her neck. He began laughing sinisterly. Renee lay there, completely dumbfounded and filled with dread. She looked around the room frantically, not looking for anything in particular, but it was the only way she could express her horror physically. His laugh turned into a snarling growl, his hot breath against her hair line causing her to physically shiver. Feeling the slight convulsion, he froze, raised his head and looked at her in what she could only describe as silent awe.

"You…you little slut, you..."

Though vulgar and dauntingly worded, he wore a twisted smirk.

"I shoulda known…All that time with that fucking psycho, huh. Yeah, that had to've done it. Tell me…how many times did that prick FUCK you, huh? Once? _Twice_ a day?"

He whistled lowly for effect.

"Well, shit! Ain't no point in doing what I had planned, is there? Huh? IS THERE!"

For some reason, tears welled up in Renee's eyes, causing her irises to shine a more brilliant green. Her mouth opened in protest, but the only sound that escaped her throat was a fading squeak. She had no idea how to react. Too often she found herself left speechless, as if everyone was out to test her limit and to see how much it took to break her. She winced at the pain he was causing her arms as he grasped them more and more tightly the angrier he got. Tears fell across her face. She suddenly felt embarrassed. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, though it carried a mocking quality to it.

"Oh, I see how it is…Poor little girl, all alone in the big bad city. Must have gotten wonewy, huh?", he began, pursing his lips a little and speaking in a babyish tone. Gingerly, he wiped the tears from her face, flecking them away before they fell into the immense darkness of her hair. And then, his face became hardened.

"Good to know that there are good-hearted people like that fucker you play side-kick to, huh?"

The tiny hint of playfulness in his tone was gone. He looked furious. Letting go of her arms, he swung a leg over her body, and plopped down onto her hips. He leaned over her once more, thighs locking her hips firmly against his.

"Now…you haven't answered my question, sweet pea…"

Dropping his head lower, he placed his mouth right next to her ear as he demanded in a low whisper.

"How many times…did…he…_fuck_ you?"

Bringing his head back up, he looked down at her with mocking concern. This sparked a tinge of anger inside her, causing her to swallow deeply and look at him gravely.

Then, almost as if someone had flicked a switch on in his head, his expression slowly contorted into a horrible frown. His hand left her face with such speed, that the resulting wisp of air caused her to gasp. His hand came down hard across her cheek, eliciting a yelp from her and causing Renee's head to whip to the side most unnaturally. She slowly looked back up at him after a moment, eyes bloodshot and panting slightly out of terror. He grasped her jaw, pressing hard onto the area he had just struck.

"I said…HOW MANY TIMES DID THAT PRICK FUCK YOU?"

His voice boomed horribly as his hand came down and struck her again. And again. And again. He showed no signs of stopping, his frenzy eventually picking up pace and causing him to drawl a high-pitched giggle. Renee took the hits, crying out with each blow, until finally, her hands shot up, hitting him in the chest.

"STOP IT!", she screamed through her tears.

His hand froze mid air and Renee sagged as she shut her eyes and began weeping pathetically under him. The man's torso straightened up and he simply sat there, blankly staring at her weeping, defeated body, his arms folded. She drew a deep quivering breath to plea her case.

"I-I…we never…I'VE never even- oh God…"

It was overwhelming. There she lay, being beaten for something she hadn't done. But something, though it deeply upset her to even think of at that particular moment, that she had considered from time to time. But she knew Rorschach. She knew him in ways no man should ever have to know him. And she knew he would never. She knew SHE would never.

…well, maybe…maybe she MIGHT. Perhaps if he were still the mysterious vigilante that she had remembered him to be all those years ago.

But he wasn't. There were some things about him that she deeply wished she was ignorant towards. The Rorschach she idolized as a child and the Rorschach she came to call companion were two completely different people. Though as hindering as some of his traits were, there was no denying the sense of tension between them, especially in the midst of violence. Something about the imminence of death gave her a crushing feeling of anxiety and excitement. And every so often, in the midst of all the chaos, their gaze would meet. Though he wore a mask, there were times when she just knew that she was looking into his eyes. And he was looking right back into hers. This would rarely happen. But when it did, it was as if the very air went thick, locking that one moment in time. And in that moment, all the troubles around them seemed to disintegrate. And it was only the two of them. These moments were so fleeting and so few. But she remembered them all too vividly. And deep down, she knew that he remembered them as well. She was brought back by a firm hand grasping her neck.

"Oh, I see how it is…don't take me for a fool", he sneered repulsively.

"Don't think I don't FUCKING know how that maniac's mind works. You've seen it too haven't you…remember, darling…REMEMBER ALL THOSE NIGHTS BACK, WHEN I HAD A GUN TO YOUR FUCKING TEMPLE AND HE TOLD ME TO SHOOT?"

His grip trembled hideously around her neck and began to grow tighter. Her breathing began to turn shallow and it quivered, yet she still managed to utter a few words of defiance through gritted teeth.

"Y…y-you're berating a m-mental case while str…s-strangling me…Sorry if…if I don't take your c-cau…cautionary words t-to heart…" and with a guttural gasp, she placed the finisher on her sentence.

"…BASTARD!" she spat with pure malice.

His twisted frown melted away, leaving along with the low chuckle he drawled. His grip loosened a little, perhaps not realizing how tightly he was grabbing. Renee made a mental note of this and pursued it.

"So…so you don't want me dead…You didn't bring me here to kill me…is that it then?...Well?... is it?"

Whether it was because he simply refused to answer or because he was toying with her, she didn't know…until he let go of her throat, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them harshly over her head. He leaned in closer and closer, until his head was blocking out the light bulb that hung behind him and a deep shadow cast over his face.

"If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I woulda done so back then…?"

His hot breath against her neck and the dark monotone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. He resumed his earlier actions, leaning in and smelling her, touching her neck and collarbone, as if he had some deep familiarity with her for years. But how could he?

"When you were wearing that…I dunno what the fuck it was…certainly didn't leave very much to the imagination. And you know I love it, but…just not on you, little girl…"

Renee clamped her eyes shut as he began planting small, tender kisses along her jaw line.

"No, never on you…you're not that kind of girl. You were never that kind of girl, were you Renee?"

In a broken, trembling voice she finally spoke.

"Who…are you?"

And just as his lips hovered a mere inch above hers, he lifted his head and said:

"Not the same guy you knew before, Ren…"

And with a wink, he swiftly lifted himself off of her and hopped off the bed,

"Boys!" he called at to the door. "She's ready!"

The last sane thought in her head was the sight of three men entering the room, all dressed in black and wearing masks, with one carrying a running video camera. Then, the lights went out.

_~17 hours later~_

"…No. Nuh-nuh-no, we've already been over this. A thousand times, NO!"

Ignoring Daniel's hissy fit, Rorschach made his way through the doorframe, feeling no need to apologize for the harsh brunt against his former partner's shoulder. The man had tunnel vision with a single objective in mind.

"Where's your VCR?"

"My wh…do you have ANY idea what time it is!"

"No time to entertain polite banter, Daniel. Where is your VCR?"

With a groggy and very displeased sigh, the former crime fighter reluctantly led Rorschach to the basement.

In his haste, Rorschach dashed passed Daniel, leaped over the last few steps and hit the switch, illuminating the secret cave containing gadgets and paraphernalia that would sooner be regarded as relics of a former time period.

"What the hell has gotten into you? If you're here to ask for my help again, you know the answer is-"

"WHERE IS YOUR VCR?"

Rorschach's booming voice tore through the silence, echoing like thunder throughout the chamber. Daniel's weary, half-shut eyes shot open to the size of dinner plates at Rorschach's unexpected outburst. He could only imagine the twisted expression he wore under that mask, his fist trembling where it had slammed against the wall. Daniel noticed a VHS tape gripped tightly in his other hand. Putting two and two together, he decidedly didn't address Rorschach's erratic (even for him) behavior and descended the remaining steps.

"Over here, uh…can I see the tape?"

Rorschach's hesitation silently astounded Daniel once more. It was as if he were asking him to hand over his first born son. But in his desperation, Rorschach apprehensively handed the object to him, watching him closely to see what he did with it. He followed him even closer still when he walked over to an empty table on the far side of the basement.

"I think this'll be your first time seeing this. I had it installed after you decided to work alone…But there were times when we'd get VHS tapes as clues or evidence and didn't know what to do with 'em…heh, remember?"

Daniel's attempt to lighten the mood was not humored. Rorschach waited for Daniel's actions to proceed before he got vocally involved in conversation.

"Err Right, well...here it is."

Daniel stuck the tape in a slot on the side of the table, pressed a button on the surface, and took a step back. In a matter of seconds, half the table top rose to a ninety degree angle, turning into a screen. Daniel moved to press the button once more, and then stopped, realizing something.

"What exactly am I going to see if I play this tape, Rorschach?"

Although he was never one to harm an undeserving individual, Rorschach had never felt so tempted to clock Daniel right then and there. This girl was doing awful things to his emotional state of clarity. Even when she wasn't around.

"A threat. A ransom note. Not sure."

"Would this have anything to do with that girl you mentioned a little while back?"

"She's…been kidnapped, Daniel. Found this tape in her apartment." The faint hint of desperation in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"So they want you to find her…Okay, say that you do find out who kidnapped her. You'd be walking right into a trap going after them."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm saying that if you're going after them…"

Daniel trailed off for a moment, taking a few steps back to flick a switch. Rorschach's attention turned to the now-illuminated owl ship.

"…you're going to need back-up."

* * *

**A/N: …Well who'da saw THAT comin'? Not I. REVIEW PLZ! :)**


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